The Dragon Journals
by Contraltissimo
Summary: Penny for a dragon's thoughts? The movie as chronicled by the beasties themselves.
1. Night Fury Entry 1

Night Fury  
Entry 1

Blew up three man-towers today. Didn't hit any mans, though. Maybe I should have. One of them hit _me_. _Me!_ One of their man-things. A long, heavy man-tail. It bound my wing and I fell. It's grounded me. It's still wrapping around me. I'm stuck. And my tail hurts. It hurts bad.

I can't move. Can the others get enough food without me there?

_I'm so tired_.


	2. Night Fury Entry 2

Night Fury  
Entry 2

A man woke me up. He trod on my leg, and I knew I was still alive. I pushed him off so he would know it too. But he came back. I saw him looking at me. He smelled like embers.

He was tiny. He had one tooth. It was bared at me. Was he come for the carrion?

He growled and bared his tooth at me. The others tell that man-teeth are sharp. I didn't want to be carrion. Everything turns into carrion, but I wasn't ready. The tiny man roared a tiny roar and held his tooth high to bite me. I didn't want to be bitten and chewed on; I wasn't dead yet. But I couldn't move.

I could only look at him.

He looked at me too.

Then he moved to bite me. I was carrion.

I closed my eyes.

But the man didn't bite. Maybe he wasn't that hungry yet. Maybe he wanted to wait for me to weaken.

I could still smell his ember-smell next to me. He murmured his strange man-growls.

Then he pulled the man-tail from my belly and I opened my eyes. He was chewing it with his tooth. I felt it sever and loosen. My legs fell free. What was he doing?

When my wing was loose I moved. I was alive. I was _strong_. I pinned the tiny man on the ground, faster than flame. He shed his tooth and yelped. He would not have me. I had more teeth than he. I could use them. I bared them and he saw them. Gas welled in my throat—I wanted to _blacken his face!_ For all their man-things! For my aching tail!

_But why did he loose me from the man-thing?_

I was angry. But his puny tooth had never touched me. Did he even _want_ to eat me? Couldn't he get enough food back at his man-roost? Why had he chewed me loose? He couldn't have bested me. No man can best me. _Oh_ I wanted to crunch him in my teeth...

He had roared before. His roar was as tiny as he was. But now I opened my own mouth, and _I_ roared at _him_ that if he ever touched me again I would _kill him!_ He cringed and shrank under my voice like withering grass. He knew my anger and my strength! I am a _Dragon!_

And I left.

I left him alive. He freed me. So I spared him.

I flew away and crashed into a rock before dropping out of the air. It was alarming to hit the ground. I flew away again and crashed into a tree. I didn't mean to. I was still sore from the man-tail. My scales flaked where it had wrapped around me. I felt unsteady.

I was so thirsty. I found water in a hole in the ground, and glided down to drink. My landing was so heavy it hurt. I didn't feel well at all.

I'm still here in the hole. And I still don't feel well. But the water is refreshing.

But I want to go home.

But I can't.

I try so hard, but I can't get out of this hole. The air feels too slippery. I can't climb it. I can't balance. I sink through it. My tail sinks through without grabbing it.

It still stings near the tip. My tail. When I found it to be bleeding, I tried licking it. I licked it a long time, but it didn't get any better. I had to flame it to get the blood to stop. Then I licked it some more. I didn't even notice at first—my fin—

It just _hurt_. And it still felt too heavy. Or too light.

But I looked at it, and it looked _wrong_. Nothing moved when I tried to wag my left fin, because... my left fin... wasn't there.

Just one fin. I howled for help, I set bushes alight and sent bursts into the sky, I ripped things with tooth and claw—I can almost still feel it there...

But, there's just one fin. Like a Flame-Skin's tail now.

Why can't I get out of here?

I hope the others were able to get enough food.


	3. Gronckle Entry 1

Gronckle  
Entry 1

Got through door today! But... still can't find way out.

Heard Stick-Foot yammering outside. Somebody _always_ get out when Stick-Foot comes.

Heard other Dragons in their caves. Spiky One said "It's Stick-Foot!"

And Gassy One and Sparky One said, "_Kill kill kill let's eat him!_"

And Flamey One said, "GET READY."

And Tiny One said, "_Quiet you fools!_ Cease your inane babbling and pay some _semblance_ of _attention!_"

Tiny One always says if we get out, we should find second door.

And today I got out!

But how can I find second door when so many mans always coming and pestering me?

I found stones quick. Swallowed them and made fireballs in my belly. And in first blast I blew down _two mans!_ Two with one blast! I am cleverest Dragon in the world!

But many more mans made noise and hurt my hearing.

I blasted and blasted and I almost killed one! But Stick-Foot hooked his tooth in my mouth and beat me back into my cave.

When all the mans went away, Tiny One roared at me a lot. For not finding way out of man-cage.

Oh well.

Maybe we find way out next time.

I sleep now.


	4. Night Fury Entry 3

Night Fury  
Entry 3

I'm hungry.

I'm still here in the hole. I can't get out.

There are fish in the water here. But it's hard to skim them out. My tail is still too heavy. Or too light. I keep falling in.

I don't like getting wet.

There's nothing else to do.

I tried to climb out for a long time, on all sides, but there's no way up. I can't do it. I make the most progress on the rocky side over the water. But I can't get past the bald spot. It's too slick.

When I was tired of climbing, I tried to catch a fish again. I fell in the water three times from skimming.

Then I got an idea: when my spark was dry again, I stood on the ground and tried to _flame_ the fish. But my flame died in the water and the fish got away. All I did was make a splash that almost put out my spark again. Sad.

I tried to get out some more. It's hard. The rocks are harder to hold on to than the air. With no meat in my belly I tired quickly. It's so _frustrating_.

Then when I was on the ground near the water I saw two fish, _very close_. I knew my flame wouldn't work. I tried to catch them with my _teeth!_ But they got away.

I think that was when I heard a scraping and saw a stick fall in the hole. I looked up, and I saw the man again. It was the same man that had chewed me free from the squeezing man-tail.

He didn't bare any teeth at me. He didn't make any man-growls. He just looked.

He's tiny like a fishbone.

I looked at him and he looked at me for a long time. When the day began to darken, the sky roared; there were grey clouds. The man looked at them, and left. I suppose even mans need shelter from the rain.

I wanted to leave, too. I miss my roost.

I tried to make the ledge where I saw the man. There's a hole there. I found enough clawhold on the rocks, but I couldn't fit through the hole. My head almost got stuck. It made my forelegs shake to hang on. I had to let go.

When I landed, I found the stick the man dropped. It smells like mans and wood and dust and embers. Part of it has been flamed, but the heat is long dead from it. I wonder if he _meant_ to drop it in here. Was he trying to show his flame? Because I'm not impressed.

The sky roared some more and it started to rain.

I flamed the ground near the big tree for my bed. The branches make the best ceiling, but the rain still drips through. It dripped on my ember bed and _hissed_.

I like that sound. I _love_ that sound. When I was small, and I heard the sky roar, I used to flame the ground all over just to hear the _hiss_ when the rain came. I thought it was so funny...

But it's raining hard now, and the rain makes my bed cold. It doesn't hiss anymore. It's just cold.

I don't like the rain. I can't feel my spark when it rains this hard.

I'm still hungry.

I think I'll try to hit the fish with my tail next time. When it stops raining.


	5. Nadder Entry 1

Nadder  
Entry 1

_Oh my aching jaw_.

I got through my door for a short time today. The man-cage looked different from the last time I saw it. And there were new mans in it. Stick-Foot's newest litter I think.

The little Venom-Hisser says the second door would look like all man-doors: wide, and flat, and made of wood. But when I broke out of my cave there was wood everywhere! _Everything_ was wide and flat! How was _I_ supposed to know which door I should break to let me find the outside?

And the mans weren't helping. Nobody had remembered to ask the Stone-Hide how many mans were in this new brood. There are six of them. They're old enough to be dangerous. Four of them have already grown horns. One of them hurt me.

I don't care what the Venom-Hisser says. When I'm in the man-cage, my first business is to elude the mans, or kill them. The Venom-Hisser can find the second door _himself_.

All being in the man-cage makes me think of is when my mother used to bring us food. I remember the first time she brought a lamb back alive, so we could kill it ourselves and have it fresh and warm.

That's why the mans haven't killed us. They're saving us for their _young_.

But they won't have me! I'm still too big for them. They cowered before my flame and under my scale-darts. I hit the fat one a few times, but his man-scale was so thick I don't think I hurt him very much. He just rubbed off my darts and scurried away.

I followed him and almost ran into two more mans. I didn't see them right away, but they were noisy, and they _reeked_ like _death_ and _dung!_ I don't know how they avoided my flame.

This brood is nimble and their scales are thick, but at least they are still inexperienced with their teeth. The curly-horned one tried to bite me, but he bit one of the doors instead. That... actually made me laugh a little bit.

Somewhere behind me I heard the Venom-Hisser, hissing and growling through his door for me to find the way out. Easy enough for him to tell me that! There were mans everywhere! I roared to scatter them and started smashing every door I could find. And there were a lot of doors.

I chased one of the mans up on top of the doors. Mans can _jump_ when they're scared! But I can jump farther. I almost had him, but the doors we were on fell over. I crashed into the stone and one of the doors fell on top of me. And I chipped—_chipped!_—one of my claws when I hit the ground! That made me so _mad!_

I _ripped_ the door apart, and saw the big-toothed man that had made me fall. His tooth was stuck in another man's scale. I wanted to _crunch_ him!

I ran at him, but he ripped the scale clean off the other man and hit me with it so hard my head spun. Man-scales are _hard_.

I felt dizzy. I saw my cave. Its door was still open. I went back to it and turned to face the mans again. They couldn't surround me here.

The big-toothed man howled in triumph to his littermate. His voice was high and squeaky. I was embarrassed to have been so hurt by such a young, hornless, ugly little... _man_-_whelp_. How can they bite so _hard?_

My head stopped spinning, and I wanted to go back out and flame them all, but Stick-Foot came and shut my door. I pressed against it, but it was stuck. I was back in the dark.

The mans left again for the day.

My jaw still hurts. I don't taste any blood on the spot though. There had better not be a bruise.

The Venom-Hisser chirruped to ask me if I had found the way out. The ingrate.

I was tired and didn't want to talk with the Venom-Hisser. Besides, it's hard to make myself heard three caves down without attracting any mans. So I told him quickly, in a keening, _heroically_ wounded rumble, that I had indeed found all the doors, and smashed every single one of them. That was true enough.

The Venom-Hisser chittered and I heard him and the Flame-Skin purring about it. The Vapor-Mouth in the next cave hissed that I was such a liar.

Well, it got the Venom-Hisser to leave me alone. But only for a moment. He then asked me if there had been a Choosing.

I didn't remember seeing any mans above the man-cage. And I hadn't seen the Great Head-Ripper.

I told the Venom-Hisser there had been no Choosing today.

And he hissed, "Good," and left me alone.

The Flame-Skin asked me what Choosing is again. I didn't answer her. I spent the rest of the day plucking the splinters from my scales and wings, and grinding down the claw on my other foot. I think they are symmetrical now.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Well if _you_ were a dragon, would _you_ be able to tell the difference between boy-mans and girl-mans?


	6. Night Fury Entry 4

Night Fury  
Entry 4

The man came again today. I heard him coming this time.

I hid and watched him. He climbed down into my hole wearing a man-scale. He passed behind some rocks and I heard something hit the ground, and some kind of scraping. When I saw him again, he had shed his scale.

I was very, very hungry. I thought about eating him, but decided against it. He did chew me free from the man-tail. He seems different from other mans. He has a unique temperament. I think part of me would be saddened to see him dead.

Besides, the others tell that mans taste like salty dirt.

I think I won't eat him unless I am very, very, _very_ hungry. Or I find him as carrion. And there is nothing else to eat.

I stayed very still and watched him. He came quite close without seeing me. When he wasn't looking, I stood up tall on a high perch of stone, so when he turned and saw me he _jumped!_

That's always my favorite part.

I stepped down from my rock and saw that he had a fish in his paws. It smelled so good. He held it toward me and I _wanted_ it. I had not hit any fish with my tail this morning. My tail never goes where I want it to anymore. I was _starving_.

I thought he meant to give the fish to me. But when I came close to take it, I saw his tooth. He was hiding it under his fur. I told him I could see it!

He couldn't fool me. He parted his fur and bared his tooth. Then he tried to take it in his paw. Mans' paws are the most dangerous part. I showed him all _my_ teeth! I told him I had more! He only had one! I could kill him!

He moved slowly, and plucked the tooth from his fur with his nubby man-claws. Then he shed it.

It was still close to him on the ground. I told him I didn't want him to take it up again! So he kicked it into the water. I was glad he understood. I didn't know mans were that smart.

That was his only tooth. I couldn't see or smell any more teeth on him. He held the fish toward me again, and made a noise that sounded like the rain-on-ember hiss. It wasn't a growl. It seemed harmless. Benign even.

I took the fish and _crunched_ it. _Oh_ it was delicious. I hadn't eaten in so long. I licked the oil from my lips. That was good. My belly felt a little better.

It was very... _affectionate_ of him. To bring me a fish. I don't think I mistook him. I'm sure he meant it for me.

This was a very different sort of man.

I came close to him to look and smell, but he lost his balance and fell down. I think he might be sick or insane. Maybe that's why he's so small. Maybe he really _doesn't_ get enough to eat at his man-roost. And here he had given me some of his own food.

He had been very kind, so I vomited part of the fish for him.

He mewled and took the piece in his paws. I don't think he knew what to do with it. He's like a hatchling.

Don't mans eat fish? The others find dead fish at the man-roost. I think they eat fish.

But the man didn't move to eat. He just stayed on the ground, and looked. Maybe he didn't want to eat it because I was bigger, like an Alpha, and you're not supposed to eat the Alpha's food.

But I told him it was all right.

He took only one bite. He didn't swallow. He mewled again and I told him he really could go ahead. "Swallow," I said.

He swallowed and made a happy sound—a man-purr. I could tell he liked that.

Then he looked at me strangely. His face was a different shape. He curled his lips back at the corners so I could see the teeth in his mouth. The harmless, white ones. They're not sharp like the kind mans carry in their paws.

He purred again.

I think... that mans... _bare their teeth_ when they are _happy_.

It was a _really_ strange face. I tried to copy it. It felt odd.

The man changed his face again when he saw my impression. For a moment I became very excited, that I could _actually_ make him _react_ to such subtle signs.

It was as if I was _speaking_ to a _man!_

But then he moved his paw toward my face. His most dangerous part.

I snarled at him _not to touch me_, and flew away into the air. He obviously didn't remember my warning from before.

My Flame-Skin tail still couldn't grab onto anything, and I fell again, near the big tree. My landings are still heavy.

The sudden fish after so long of nothing was beginning to upset my stomach. I flamed a bed of embers and lay down. I needed out. I needed to _fly_. _Flame_-_Skins_ don't have any trouble with just one fin. _Birds_ don't have any trouble. Why do I?

The man followed me again. Maybe he wanted more food. _Marvelous_. You feed something once and it follows you everywhere. _He_ was able to get his own fish—he's the one who brought _me_ the fish in the first place! I told him not to expect any more morsels from me, and shaded my face.

I heard him creeping closer. I think he tried to touch me again. I looked at him and asked him what he was doing, but he got scared and moved away. That was just as well. I moved farther away too.

I know mans can't really understand speech, but there's no one else to talk to here. It's lonely.

I need to sleep off this fish. Away from the man. I don't want his man-paws touching me.

I don't think he'll be able to reach me if I tail-hang from the jutting root on the big tree.

_˙˙˙ƃuol os uı sıɥʇ ǝuop ʇ,uǝʌɐɥ I 'ɥO_


	7. Night Fury Entry 5

Night Fury  
Entry 5

I have taught a man how to _dance_.

He's gone now.

It was still light when I woke up. The softest part of the day. The fish had stopped upsetting me. I was hungry again. I'm still hungry now.

I saw the man sitting on a rock near the water. He had a stick in his paw, and he scratched against the dirt with it. It looked like he was sharpening a new claw for himself.

I dropped down from the tree. I was going to tell him to stop, but when I came close, I saw he wasn't scratching hard enough to sharpen anything.

He was only making scratch-marks.

But I looked at his marks in the dirt, and they were so... _different_. He moved his stick in strange directions and with such delicate strokes; there seemed to be no purpose. But the marks he made ran together, and _touched_ each other. They grew into one big mark of different colors in the ground that made me think of the colors I see when I look at my shadow in the water.

I didn't know scratch-marks could ever _look_ like that! Only man-claws must be able to do it.

I wanted to do it, too. I got my own stick from the tree, to be my man-claw. I held it in my teeth and _scratched_ against the dirt! I scratched everywhere, and made _long_ marks, bigger than _I_ am! I scratched until my marks surrounded the man on his rock. That made it complete, I think. That was _perfect_.

The man stood and saw my marks. I felt excited again, that I could make him look and turn and move. He looked around, and around again. My marks were much bigger than his. I think he was amazed out of his head. _I_ would have been.

But when he moved he stepped on one of my marks. I growled, "_Don't do that_."

He didn't understand me, and stepped on it again. He was _ruining_ my scratch-marks! I had to _hiss_ it for him to finally understand.

I _made_ him _know_ he was upsetting me.

_I talked to a man_.

Then he stepped in a better place, away from my marks, and looked at me. I purred that that was good, and he made his happy face.

And then I watched him dance.

He held his tiny forelegs out like wings, with claws splayed out, and he moved through my scratch-marks. He stepped close among them, but he never touched them. He turned and stepped backwards and forwards and backwards again; he spun with half-closed eyes always watching the ground.

The mans I have always seen have been stout, and heavy, and tromping like hooved things. But my tiny man danced and turned and turned and danced like a bird walking on wind. He was not sick or insane; he was _graceful_.

He stayed lost in his dance until he came so close to me that my breath ruffled his fur. He felt it, and he turned and looked at me. He was very close.

He moved his paw toward my face again.

I just said, "_Don't_," and bared some teeth. He remembered, or he understood, and he pulled his paw back. But he didn't move away.

He cringed and made himself small, and looked down and away, and put out his paw again. It was close enough to smell. It was close enough to bite.

And I thought of my own most dangerous part. It's my muzzle of course. I have teeth and sparks and flames. But it's also where I smell things. It's where I touch and meet and learn.

And I wondered if he only wanted to smell. Dragons' snouts are dangerous. But it's also where we say hello.

Was it the same for mans?

His paw was _very_ close to my face. But, I had said if he ever touched me again I would _kill_ him.

Then, I didn't let him touch me.

I touched him instead.

His paw was warm. It trembled.

I smelled embers, sweat, stone, wood, dust, fish, dirt, and some tangy, oily things I didn't recognize.

When I had smelled all there was, I pulled my head back and looked at the man, and he looked at me. My nose itched. His scent was bizarre.

I told him he stunk, and moved away.

I touched a man.

It was frightening and strange. But I think this man is kind. I don't think he means to hurt me.

When the light was almost gone, I watched him climb out and leave through the hole in the rocks. I watched where he stepped. His claws are short and blunt, but they look good for climbing.

When he was gone I tried to follow in the places he had stepped. But I still can't make it over the bald spot. There's nothing to hold on to. My claws can't grip like his.

And my tail still can't grab the air.

I'm still hungry.

I found the scale the man had shed. It's wedged between two rocks. I put the man's stick by it. Maybe he'll find it again, if he comes back.

I hope he comes back.


	8. Night Fury Entry 6

Night Fury  
Entry 6

I _flew_ today! I climbed the airs!

My tail _worked!_

_But what idiocy has brought me back to the same hole?_

And now I have a man-thing.

What am I doing?

I don't know.

The man came again today. He climbed down into my hole before I woke up. I had been so tired; sleeping was the only way to dull my hunger. I was beginning to feel heavy and slow.

He came cooing his ember-hiss noise at me, and I opened my eyes to find him close by. He carried two large man-things, and a really, _really_ good smell.

He put the fatter man-thing on the ground and spilled it. _Fish_ tumbled out—so many fish I didn't know what to do. The man kept cooing and murmuring in a passive stance. He meant the fish for me. My teeth jumped in my mouth. I was _starving_.

But when I came close, the smell turned dark, and sharp, and _bad_. I saw yellow and black. I saw an _evil fish_.

It was dead.

I rumbled from the deepest part of my throat, "_Man, what have you done?_"

The man picked up the evil fish in his claws—he _touched_ it—he was _holding_ it—_in his paw_. _Its slime was against his skin_. It hung like dripping guts and rotting carrion from his grasp. How could he _do_ it? How could he _bear_ it? _The stench and the stripes and the slime of the evil thing all over him_.

I hissed, "_Stop!_" I howled, I shrieked, "Get it away! _Get it away!_" I wanted to run and fly and escape. _I did not want the evil fish_.

The man roared his tiny roar in a strange stuttering call, and seemed to realize what he was doing. He threw the evil fish away. It landed on the ground near the water. I need to remember; I don't want to touch that spot again.

He put his paw toward my face and the stench of evil and all terrible things was so _thick_. I snorted it out of my nose and told him to keep it away! He murmured again and took back his paw.

I had always known mans could be _fearsome_. But that they could _touch_ the _evil fish_ as if it were any other creature... I thought _all_ mans must be sick. _And_ insane.

I did not know what to do. There was a pile of fish, and they were all touched with the evil smell. But I was so _hungry_. I risked obscene defilement and took a fish in my mouth. The taste was more savory than evil. I ate it. _Oh, it was so good_.

The man murmured and moved away, and I ate. Oh, I ate and I ate and I _ate_. Sea-fish and river-fish and tiny-stream-fish. Some I swallowed in hunger, others I _crunched_. Skin split, bones crackled, oil gushed. That was happiness on my lips for later licking.

The man-thing was a miracle. Some kind of man-craw for filling up and vomiting from. It was _huge_. I had to reach far inside to get the last of the fish. _It smelled so good inside_. I burrowed in with my nose and licked its walls. The oil was _so tasty_.

My belly felt so much better. I had not gorged in so long. I felt _content_. I felt full, and heavy.

And then I felt something brush my tail. I tried to flick it away, but my tail was sluggish. It dragged.

It made me think. I moved to feel its weight, and I flapped the right fin. I thought hard. Every time I had tried to get out of the hole, I was always hungry, and tired. But after eating so much fish, I would be _strong_ again, wouldn't I? My tail felt heavy and solid, like it might be able to grab something.

The fish had made me so happy. I wanted to try to get out again. I needed to learn how to use my Flame-Skin tail!

I felt good. I spread my wings, and I felt how to grab the air. And I _jumped_.

I _climbed_ and _climbed_ and heard the man howl far behind me. I thought I must have startled him with my sudden leap. I climbed above the floor-draft. In the loose air above, I gripped with wings, then hind-fins, then _tail_-_fin_. And my tail sank through and whipped in wild directions. It made me turn. I couldn't balance. And I thought I would crash again.

But I concentrated hard. I tried to keep my Flame-Skin tail as straight as I could! _I pumped my wings_. _I wanted out!_

I opened wide and pumped hard, and _bounced_ off the floor-draft, and flew up! And out! I was flying! The wind roared me welcome, and I roared back.

I was in the air! It was so _wonderful!_ My Flame-Skin tail was working. _I could still fly_.

I flew high and saw the sea below me. The span of the world was so much bigger than the little hole in the ground.

And then I _turned_. I didn't mean to. My tail was still hard to control. I turned and arced until I came down _over the same hole_. I pumped hard not to crash, and just caught myself on the floor-draft over the water. I skimmed.

And I heard the man's howl again. But it was so close! I turned, and I saw him _clinging_—to my _tail_. Like a _parasite!_

The man was _on_ me!

I turned hard to fling him off, and he went into the water.

Maybe I turned too hard, because my tail slipped through again. I lost my balance, and flipped over, and I went into the water, too.

I hate getting wet. My spark dies, and it's so _cold_.

I don't think the man liked getting wet either. I heard him give a shivery roar when he came up in the water.

Mans can swim.

I got out of the water and shook my wings. There was no sun to lie in yet; I lay on the grass instead. I was cold. I wanted my spark and an ember bed.

When I curled up, I saw a brown thing come toward my face, and I jumped. Then I saw it was the other man-thing the man had brought. It was wrapped around my tail. I tried to shake it off, but it was stuck. I wanted it _off_. I shook harder, but it wouldn't let go.

I saw the man coming out of the water. I moved toward him and roared, "What is this _thing?_" But he got scared and jumped back in the water. I growled for him to make it let go.

He mewled and waded to where the evil fish was on the ground. I did not want to go any closer. He was lucky my spark was dead. I went back to my grass and tried to chew the man-thing off myself.

But then I watched the man come out from the water. When he was on the dry ground, HE TOOK OFF HIS SKIN. He pulled his fur off in one piece, and squeezed the water from it. Then he PULLED OFF THE PAWS OF HIS HIND FEET, and squeezed and poured out more water. He was mauling himself, and there was no blood.

I knew mans could shed teeth and scales quickly, but I didn't know they could do it with their _skin_.

But then, he had also come carrying a stomach full of fish outside his own body.

Mans are freaks.

I watched him peel off some more delicate skin from his feet, and then the brown stripe from his belly, and then all the green skin from his chest and back and forelegs. He was pink underneath. He squeezed the water out of everything.

Then he looked at me and mewled, and took up his skins and moved toward the rocks. I wanted to follow him, but he barked and came back and put the evil fish in my way. When he was behind the rocks I heard wet, flappy noises and more water dripping on the ground.

I waited.

When the man came back out, all his skin and fur was back.

I told him he was the most disturbing botch of nature I had ever seen.

My spark came back, and I flamed an ember bed and lay down. I saw the man-thing still on me. I remembered how the man had carried it. But there had been so many fish, and the _really good smell_, and I had been so hungry. I didn't even notice when it clung on to me. And its smell was weaker. It smells like embers and man-teeth. Was it the thing I felt brush my tail?

The man took the evil fish and made his man-craw swallow it up again. I mourned for the good smell inside.

And then he climbed away.

The man-thing is still on me. It doesn't look so bad to me anymore. When I look at my tail on the ground, with the man-thing on it, it looks... _better_, somehow. It looks like another fin. It looks like the one I lost.

It looks _symmetrical_.

And it's not hurting me.

I _think_... it may have even helped me fly.

I think the man helped me fly.

And I could barely even feel him.

He's as tiny as a fishbone, and as light as one, too.

I think I'll call him Fishbone.

* * *

_Author's Note_: I've decided that yes, dragons have an inherent concept of ground-effect.  
And no, Toothless is not a pervert. He's just very curious about his freaky new friend.  
And yes, I altered the Shakespearean bit to suit my whim.  
And yes, this here—this is a talkin' fishbone.


	9. Zippleback Entry 1

Zippleback  
Entry 1

_I think we're going to die._

**The Quill-Back says his flame is gone. Says he's tired and he needs to sleep.**

_He can say that. Good-for-nothing meat-sack. He could try butting the wall again._

**Maybe he hurt his brain doing it that last time. Of course that's no big loss.**

_This is so stupid._

**Stick-Foot let us out today. Just so his whelps could try and sharpen their teeth on our hide again. I know he just likes torturing us.**

_Not as much as I like torturing them._

_We should have ripped them all apart..._

**That would have been nice. They'd have killed us for it, and we wouldn't have had to put up with their man-stench anymore.**

_But this is worse! Why would they do this to us?_

**We didn't hurt his brood! ...Much. All we did was lay a little smoke...**

_It confuses them. They're a bunch of scent-deaf idiots._

**When the man-cage was shrouded we followed the wall past Stick-Foot's little morons and over to the second door. They'd made it even stronger and thicker than the last time we'd seen it. Those hairy phlegm-wads... Why can't mans just stay as stupid as they look? I wanted to try blasting it anyway.**

_But I'd already expended some gas to lay the smoke. I didn't know if the rest of it would be enough. I don't know if all of it would have been enough. It wasn't enough for the last door..._

**We should have tried.**

_But I thought it was better to be quiet. Mans still have ears. We clawed and chewed on it for a while instead._

**Left some gouges.**

_Left some venom._

**Not sure what good it'll do.**

_I think we weakened some of the upper parts._

**Then we heard the man-whelps making their little squeaky-bird noises.**

_Thought they saw us._

**They were moving toward the door.**

_So we slithered back into the smoke._

**Better to be quiet, after all. Are we sick?**

_We enjoy it._

_**Playtime.**_

**They're fun to watch from above. They never look up. Never known why that is.**

_Never cared either._

**We saw the little yellow-head. The Quill-Back said to look out for that one. But he didn't look so tough to me.**

_They were playing their water-game again. Failing miserably as usual. The morons got it all over themselves._

**The smoke... I think it does something to mans' minds. One of them clobbered another one with a man-thing to the face. He hit the ground.**

_I wanted to wait and watch them a little longer. The smoke was still thick. And sometimes they get really violent..._

**But that one just landed so perfectly close to me... I couldn't resist... I took him by the nape so quick his horns fell off! Shook him up and tossed him over...**

_Chewed on him for a while. Tossed him back..._

_**Played tug-of-war!**_

_He was kind of bony. His legs._

**I've still got some of his fur in my teeth...**

_I like to hear them shriek..._

**It was kind of loud with his head in my mouth.**

**We spun him around and then shunted him off back to his brood.**

_I love how the rest go all stiff and shivery at that part... They look... crunchier when they do that._

**Terribly tempting.**

_I wanted the fat one. Just a bite. We never get enough scraps from the food-hole in our cave. And his big forelegs looked so plump and succulent..._

**The smoke was thinning out. We had to show ourself anyway.**

_I always go first when it's the water-game._

**Since I'm the Spark-Mouth and they always try to douse me.**

_How dumb do they think we are?_

_I twined out from the smoke._

**It looked so scary...**

_I came close to the fat one and he skittered like a worm on hot stone._

_He splashed my face... I gassed his. Oh he howled..._

**Ever seen a fat man-whelp run for his rotund little life?**

_That made Stick-Foot squeal._

**Best part of our day.**

_The fat one ran off, but there was another one nearby. He was so puny I almost didn't see him at first._

**He would've made a good toothpick. I still need one...**

_I told him he looked delicious._

**I said, "Hey, up here!" and showed him my spark.**

_He must have been too stupid to be scared. He threw his water._

**Missed me by a wingspan.**

_We twined back down when his man-thing was empty. I made sure he could see all my teeth._

**I laughed in his face and sparked again. Oh I almost bit him—I almost bit him...**

_I don't want to think about that._

**Sick...**

_He fell over, and his fur split from throat to belly. And we saw death._

**Sick... SICK... Yellow, and black...**

_He stood up._

**I don't remember anything. His growl was so puny...**

_We backed up. He stood up and we backed up. He kept coming toward us like nightmares and death..._

**It got dark...**

_He drove us into our cave. He reached inside his skin—he spread the wound with one paw and burrowed in with the other—he was sick, he was mad—_

**Stop—**

_He pulled out an entire evil fish from—from—from where? Was it parasitic under his hide somewhere? It slid out like some unholy birth._

**I want out...**

_He threw it in our cave._

**The sound it made...**

_Slimy and slick and wet, juices from it or from the whelp I don't know—oh the stench... There is an evil fish—an EVIL—FISH. IN—OUR—CAVE. Why would they do this to us? Why?_

**This never happens...**

_He shut the door._

**We were up against the wall.**

_We had to jump over it. It was dead, oh, thank all good things it was dead._

_We made it to the other side. The safe side._

**The smell was so evil...**

_We hissed for help._

**We clawed. We shrieked.**

_The Flame-Skin heard us. But her cave was through the wall on the far side._

**The side near the—near it.**

_The Quill-Back's cave was closer. It was just on the other side of the safe wall, where we were._

_We cried. We pled._

**The Quill-Back doesn't like us...**

_We don't like him either._

**But it was in our cave...**

_No one deserves this. He tried to help._

**We tried to break through.**

_We wanted to make a hole. He said if we could break through we could shelter in his cave._

**He scratched and flamed.**

_He rammed the wall._

**And we blasted from our side.**

_I spewed all my gas. More gas than I ever thought I could spew in my life._

**But it wasn't enough.**

_Why couldn't it work? All the blast did was bring Stick-Foot running and yammering..._

**We had to be quiet until he left.**

_I wished he could have stayed. His rotten-gassy-sheep-carcass smell was almost enough to block out the evil stench..._

**The Quill-Back tried so hard.**

_It wasn't enough! He's a useless dung-heap!_

**His flame was so hot we could feel it through the stone.**

_But it didn't work. How can he give up?—That lazy, arrogant—_

_We scratched until our claws cracked and our paws bled._

**We wanted out.**

_We want out now!_

**It's still there.**

_Oh the evil..._

**We're trying so hard.**

_But the stone won't give._

**It's too thick.**

_We can't break through._

_We're going to die in here._

**We're going to die.**

_**We're going to die.**_

_I don't want to sleep._

_

* * *

Author's Note_: Yeah, so, sorry for takin' so long with this one. I was kinda busy and rather sleep-deprived. Also, apologies to Bob and George.


	10. Night Fury Entry 7

Night Fury  
Entry 7

Fishbone came back today! I was happy to see him. I had been trying to get out all morning, but my tail still wouldn't move like I wanted it to. But the man-thing-tail-fin did make me feel at least a _little_ more balanced. And I didn't crash so much, though my feet still got sore from hard landings.

And besides that, I was hungry.

Fishbone brought his big craw and another man-thing with him. This one looked like a big scale. He held it up so I could see, and then came toward me making his ember-hiss noise.

I knew what he was up to. I jumped away! I told him to just _try_ to get his paws on me again without me knowing! He yammered and ran after me and I lolled my tongue at him.

It felt like playing with a hatchling. Running from a toothless man.

He was so easy to outrun. But he never stopped coming after me. The chasing game made me giddy. I jumped up on the big root where he couldn't reach me. He looked so funny down on the ground, staring up at me, not knowing what to do.

Then I turned the game around, and pounced. He didn't start running as fast as I thought he would; I really thought he would move in time. I think I might have pinned him a little too hard, because for a while after I got off, all he did was lie on the ground making a stuttering, gaspy kind of noise.

I think I hurt him a little. I nosed some apologies under his shoulder and head until he got onto his haunches. He seemed all right after a moment. He didn't smell like anything was wrong. Not that I guess I would really know, when it comes to _mans_.

I've decided he doesn't smell _so_ bad. It's mostly just the ember smell unless I get really close. Or maybe his new man-thing was blocking the bad smells.

I took a closer sniff of the new man-thing. Fishbone became very stiff when I got close. I told him not to worry; I wouldn't step on him again. The new thing smelled like sheep, deer, more embers, bone, man-teeth, dust, dryness... Aside from a few extra animal smells, it smelled almost like the man-fin on my tail.

And I wondered... Maybe he had brought this _new_ man-thing to fix my tail for _good_.

I brought my tail around and showed it to Fishbone. I wanted to understand him, and I wanted him to understand me. I asked him very slowly if the new man-thing would be for my tail. The first fin was a good try, and it helped a little. But it still couldn't grip the air like my old one.

Fishbone touched the man-fin on my tail and made it flex and flap. It made odd, squeaky noises in its bones. He murmured and brushed his paws over the teeth-marks I had left before, and I felt suddenly stupid. What if it had been working just fine, but _I_ had been the one to wound it with my chewing?

I felt embarrassed and looked away. I noticed the craw sitting alone by the water, and walked over to it. Fishbone got up from the ground and followed me with my tail in his paws. Is it strange that I was hoping he wouldn't think I was stupid? Can mans think that far? Do they wonder? Do they judge?

Fishbone let go of my tail and spilled fish from the craw for me, and I ate. He stood to my side, cooing and murmuring friendly sounds.

And then he laid the new man-thing flat across the back of my neck, just in front of my shoulders.

I had thought he was going to make it grab onto my _tail_.

I stopped eating. I was curious to know what he was doing. He settled it around and made more happy noises. The new thing had long tails hanging off the sides. I felt Fishbone pulling them and wagging them around. It was interesting... until he pulled the tails around my neck, where they grabbed _tightly_.

I backed away and roared, "_What are you doing?_" The man-thing let go and fell off. I stomped its tails and jumped away from it.

Fishbone looked at me so innocently, stuttering his _concerned_ call again. For a wild moment I saw him as vicious and cunning—a lure-hunter, lulling me to my death, seeming harmless and friendly before killing me. _Surely_ he must know my _throat_ is where my _life_ runs! The throat is where you bite and clamp to _kill_. And I'd seen man-things kill Dragons before. I was lucky the man-tail that first grounded me had grabbed my _wing_ and not my throat. It could so _easily_ have ended me...

And now here was Fishbone, going for my _neck_. Had he been toying with me the whole time, just to kill me in the end? I looked at the pile of fish and felt sick.

He stood mewling and yelping and waving his paws. He took up the man-thing and waggled its strangling tails at me, yammering the whole time, coming closer. I told him to keep the new thing away.

He didn't understand me.

So I blasted the ground between his back feet.

That made him stop. Mans' skins are _thin_ against _flame_.

He dropped the new man-thing, and I was satisfied, and let him approach. He went straight to my tail, and took off my left tail-fin.

I yelped as he walked off with it toward the new thing. I thought he was going to take it away from me. For flaming at him. But after he held the two man-things next to each other and yammered a bit, he brought the fin back and held it close in front of my face.

I didn't understand the point. I'd _seen_ the man-fin before, whenever I looked at my tail. But Fishbone unfurled a different part of it that I hadn't seen before. I was surprised to discover that the man-fin _also_ had long tails. He let me sniff. _Of course_. That must have been how it grabbed me.

I wanted it back. I brought my tail around and told Fishbone to make the man-fin grab on again. He did. I watched him do it this time.

For how blunt and stunted man-claws are, it's amazing what they can do. Their movements are so small and quick. I watched Fishbone manipulate the tiny tails on the man-fin. He wrapped them around my own tail and looped them over and through themselves. They twined like snakes. They made patterns. It was _amazing_. It made me think of his scratch-marks.

When he was done with my man-fin he moved away and I inspected it more closely. I could see why I had missed the little tails before; they tucked away inside themselves where you couldn't see them. It was all so _clever_. I knew mans could make cruel, deadly things out of rocks and trees and the bones of mountains. But I wondered what else they could make out of this softer stuff that was so neat and fine and _interesting_.

And then I heard Fishbone call his ember-hiss noise. I looked up, and he was coming toward me with the new thing again.

I didn't want it to touch me, but he _cooed_ and he _purred_ so sweetly and he bared his happy teeth... I wondered if the reason he was so happy was because he intended to eat me soon...

But I thought again of his scratch-marks, and his _dance_, and the one fin he had made for me already. How he had saved me from hunger before. How he had saved me from the man-tail in the woods.

But he was a _man_. I wondered what I was doing. I still wonder what I'm doing. It feels like losing myself. Mans _kill_ Dragons. And Dragons kill mans. Why does it feel so easy to gambol and run with this one?

For all I know, _Fishbone_ could have been the one whose tail took me down in the _first_ place! He _was_ the one who found me...

But he's _different_—he is _kind_ to me. He means me well... doesn't he?

And I remembered when he offered me his paw. He must have known I could have crunched it clean off his foreleg. Was this the same thing, just the other way around? Offering my neck to a man-tail's grip?

I hocked some gas into my throat and kept it there, ready. Just in case.

Fishbone put the thing on my neck again. I didn't move. If the man-thing-tail-fin could grab on without hurting me, maybe this new thing could, too. He stood to the side, out of my blast-line, but I could still reach him with my claws if I had to. I was scared. He settled the thing around and started pulling the tails across my neck. They _tightened_... and they became snug.

And Fishbone stopped pulling. I wasn't choking. He wasn't killing me. I could breathe. I was fine. I felt his paws still moving over my neck. I imagined him twining the tails into each other, making little snake-patterns.

His paws left off for only a moment, and then came back and touched the thing's tail hanging just behind my foreleg, against my side. It _tickled_. I let loose my gas-ball and blew up a tree. Fishbone yelped, and smoldering pine-twigs fell like rain.

I looked down. Fishbone was shivering underneath me. I told him it was an accident!

He mewled and shivered some more.

I told him I _really_ didn't mean to scare him. I mimicked his happy face and... gave him a little nuzzle. I told him it was all right. I knew he wouldn't hurt me, and so I wouldn't hurt him.

I put my belly in front of him, and he took the tails and made them grab my chest. They didn't squeeze or pinch. He made them comfortable.

When he was done he crawled out and walked around me, looking close and touching the man-thing on my shoulders and neck and chest. He murmured in excited-sounding tones. I was excited too. I wasn't sure how the new thing might help me balance, but I wanted to try to fly right away!

I jumped. Fishbone gave a howl behind me.

I climbed and climbed... and sank back through the floor draft and landed hard. I tried again, and the same thing happened.

Fishbone cried out his ember-hiss noise at me from across the hole.

I asked him, "Why isn't it working?" I tried to fly to him, but I came down hard again.

Fishbone ran over and looked at my left tail-fin. He had _another_ man-tail with him—I started to wonder where he was keeping them all. This one was very, _very_ long. It looked exactly like the one that had grounded me. It made me nervous, but I trusted him.

He made one end of the tail grab the longest spine on my left tail-fin. He kept the other end in his paw, and walked back toward my head. I kept my wing well away from the tail as it extended and straightened.

And then—at first I thought he was playing chase-and-pounce again—I almost laughed—Fishbone came up purring, grabbed the thing on my neck and just... _scrabbled_ up onto my back. He was as light as ever; I could barely feel him.

He looked back and twitched the long tail, which opened my left tail-fin... and I had a _brilliant_ idea.

"Fishbone," I said, not completely sure anymore that he couldn't understand me, "you stay there and make sure my left fin stays open. I'm going to try flying."

And I jumped.

Fishbone gave a new howl I hadn't heard before. It was high and it sounded like a wolf-cry. It sounded _joyous_.

I sailed over the floor-draft, feeling the weight of my tail. The left side felt too small. I tried to compensate and streamline on the right. The ground disappeared, and I glided over the water. It was one of the longer distances I'd gone without feeling too unsteady. It was good!

And then Fishbone flared the left fin too fast—there was a strong pull to the side, and I lost my balance and flipped over.

I hate getting wet.

But it was good progress! I wanted to try again! I paddled to the shore and called to Fishbone.

I didn't see him at first because he was still in the middle of the water. He was slow coming out. Mans can't swim very fast. He should have held on tighter to my neck.

When he finally got onto the dry ground I flipped the long man-tail toward him. I lowered my neck and told him to hurry and get on again. But he didn't. He just looked at my neck-thing and pulled and touched and murmured.

I thought maybe he was upset from falling in the water. I told him I didn't like getting wet either, but I wanted to keep trying! I nosed under him and tried to make him get on me, but he only made his stuttering, rippling call, and pushed away.

He took his brown fur off and walked toward the rocks, squeezing water on the ground. I didn't follow him.

I shook my wings out and went to lie in the sun until my spark came back.

That call Fishbone had made was just one sound, repeated over and over again. I recognized it.

I'm learning a lot of man-sounds. That short, barky one is for when something isn't wanted. There's a placating hiss-growl he makes when he wants to comfort and show affection. He uses that one a lot. And there are two sounds he makes to get my attention. One is the ember-hiss noise. The other sounds like a footfall.

I think... they might be his _names_ for me. Ember-Hiss. Footfall.

I didn't think mans were smart enough to have names for things. But there have been a _lot_ of things I didn't think they were smart enough to do. I'm learning more about them every day.

Fishbone came back from the rocks with his fur squeezed out, and I wondered what his real name could be, if he had one.

He sat down in the sun with me and leaned against my side. I told him I was sorry my spark was dead; otherwise I could lay some embers to warm us up faster. But he just picked up a stick, and I watched him make more scratch-marks.

He made some interesting patterns.

After a while, Fishbone took the long man-tail off my fin, and made the neck-thing let go. He spilled the rest of the fish from his craw, took the three man-things, and climbed out of the hole.

He made one more sound before he left. It's a sound he makes only when he goes away. I think it's a goodbye sound.

I tried to mimic it back to him, though I'm not sure if he recognized my effort.

I helped myself to the rest of the fish, happy they were coming from a friend, and not an enemy.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Sorry for the long wait, friends; I was on vacation. :)


	11. Night Fury Entry 8

Night Fury  
Entry 8

There are bugs with big colorful wings here. They taste good.

I'm really, _really_ happy right now.

Really. Happy.

I'm out of the hole.

I'm so happy! I just want to _run_, and _play!_ I wish Fishbone could have stayed to play with me. This field is great. I could stay here forever. It smells so good.

We did play a little chase-and-pounce! I could have won every time, but sometimes I pretended he was strong and I let him get me and we rolled in the grass—_oh_ it was so fun. I tried not to squish him, but I think I might have a few times... I was just so _excited!_ It's a happy, _very_ happy smell in the grass.

We flew out of the hole today! The man-things are _working!_

Fishbone climbed down into the hole with his craw and the neck-thing and the long tail. But at first I didn't recognize him. He looked different.

I wasn't sure it was him, but I didn't want to flame him in case it _was_. So I hid until I heard him call out _Ember-Hiss_... And when I came out, I saw that he had shed all his brown fur except on his head and hind paws. It was just his green skin and belly-stripe. He let me smell, but there wasn't much difference there.

He really doesn't smell very bad at all. Sometimes I think he even smells slightly Dragonish, like any other from my roost.

Oh my roost.

What am I doing here? When did I start to like it so much down on the ground? But this grass is so _yummy_...

But he came and he spilled the fish from the craw, and while I was eating he put the neck-thing on me. And then he had a new man-thing I thought he was going to put on me too, but he put it on _himself_. It grabbed him around the middle and made a darker belly-stripe through his first one. There were little tails on the sides.

Is that how mans' markings change? All at once with new skins? How can they even tell each other apart if they change so fast?

Fishbone took the long man-tail, and made one end of it grab my left tail-fin, just like before. He took the other end and climbed up on my back, and I spread my wings and got ready to _jump_...

But he made his stuttering ripple-noise. The one that means he doesn't want something. He was still moving around. He wasn't ready. I turned my head as far as I could and just saw him still pawing the man-tail. He was making it grab onto one of his hind paws.

It's hard to look at your own neck. Unless you're half a Dyad.

_That is so funny!_ Why is everything so funny today?

But the tail grabbed onto his hind paw, and I felt him center himself, and then he barked. He was ready.

And we jumped!

I stayed away from the water this time. We sailed low over the floor-draft. We sank through and crashed a few times, but I'm getting better with my landings. Fishbone is getting better at hanging on, too.

I tried to climb higher. "Open wide!" I roared at Fishbone. I needed my fins to be _bigger_, so they could _grab more air_.

It took him so long to understand me. Sometimes it seems like he shares my very thoughts. Other times he is stupid as sheep. Why did he have to be stupid right when I was trying to fly?

Eventually he flared the fin wider—he's getting good at doing it _slowly_—and I pumped hard and came _so close to the edge of the hole!_ But I was still too low; I had to bank and dip away.

I swooped toward the cliff on the other side, the one by the big tree. I think I got a little higher, but the cliff there is higher too. I couldn't make it. I dipped away and made one more swoop at the first cliff. My speed was terrific! I flapped hard on the upswing and we _sailed_ over the rocks and out of the hole and into the air! I roared and Fishbone howled! We were flying!

And then he streamlined the left side too fast and I lost my balance and flipped over. We landed in some brambles.

I didn't mind the scratch so much—it was actually kind of pleasant—but Fishbone really didn't seem to like it. He yelped and I could see the burrs and barbs sticking to his skin. I could smell the blood from his scratches.

How can mans even survive with hides so thin? It's a wonder they're not extinct.

Fishbone brushed the burrs off, but he didn't lick. I told him that was bad hygiene, but he didn't understand me or take any initiative. So I gave him a good licking. He mewled and whined like a hatchling...

And then I let him on my back we tried again.

We flew farther and farther distances—it was exciting! It was sort of like flying and sort of like _bounding_. And there was so much more _room_ than there was back in the hole. I always landed on my feet, and I didn't land in any more brambles. Fishbone held on tightly, too. Most of the time.

We sailed over pines, and over a little brook where we startled some deer, and then into _this field_—_oh_, I am _so_ happy we flew into this field. I'm happy he made me mess up and lose my balance right then. I really, really like the smell here.

I think Fishbone fell off me that time. And when I found my feet, I felt to make sure I hadn't landed on top of him, and I remembered that there hadn't been any rocks or drops nearby, and so I figured he was safe—and that was the last I cared about it.

It smelled so GOOD. I rolled and rolled—I just wanted to hug the earth and never let it go.

Fishbone came and reveled in the smell with me. But after a little bit he got on my back and made the bark to fly again.

I didn't want to.

We were getting better! I told him I'd decided we'd had enough practice for the day. He agreed and happily began to push me and pull me for a game. So we played chase-and-pounce. He playfully yammered his ripple-call the whole time...

When I got tired I just lay on my back, and looked at the sky. I tried to see how many of those bugs with the colorful wings I could blast out of the air. It's harder than it looks.

Fishbone came and pulled at me some more, but I was tired of playing. He grabbed me by the neck-thing and heaved, but I told him I just wanted to lie there. It was just so nice.

So he took the long man-tail and made the goodbye noise.

And then he left.

I don't know how he could leave. From a smell this delicious.

The sun is dying now.

All of a sudden my head really hurts.

I want some water.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Profound, _profound_ apologies for the slow update, friends. It's just been reeeeally... hard. To get to this chapter. Really... really hard. Like seriously. ._.

Yeah.

Hope you can enjoy it anyway. c:


	12. Gronckle Entry 2

Gronckle  
Entry 2

Tiny One roaring at me some more. Never know why he growls so much.

But... really don't care.

Why am I stuck next to Tiny One anyway? Need better cave. Wish I had Spiky One's cave all the way on other side. Tiny One's a downer.

Got through door and he roars at me. Found second door and he roars at me. Tried to chomp through second door... and all the mans want to hurt me.

They make more loud noises all the time. Hurt my hearing.

But that's okay.

I'm happy now. Just in my cave.

I got some seriously good junk in here.

I like Whip-Fur man. He's easiest. And when you hit him he makes a funny sound. Same sound every time.

But _ugh_, why there gotta be so many mans? Always come from around everywhere. I try to stay close to wall.

Knocked Whip-Fur man down, he lost his tooth and made the funny sound. Then saw another man standing. The Tiny Man.

So, went to knock him down too.

And got there...

...and he smelled _good_...

I just smelled. And smelled and smelled and smelled and smelled and smelled. Rolled over and took a rest. In the smell.

Licked it off the Tiny Man and got some in my mouth. Grassy. Didn't taste as good as smell. But still good.

I curled up. Very happy.

And the little mans left.

Heard some noises. Man noises, Tiny One roaring, Spiky One growling... Didn't care. Just happy with my smell-stuff.

Then Stick-Foot brought the Big Mans. Hate it when he does that. Uncomfortable.

But didn't mind so much this time. I had _smell_-_stuff_.

And twenty-seven Big Mans pushed me and pulled me back in my cave and shut the door.

Tiny One always roars loudest after Big Mans shut me up.

Really don't care.

Tiny One said, "How is the second door?"

And I said, "I chomped it"

And Tiny One said, "Did you break it?"

And I said, "No."

And Tiny One said, "How many mans above?"

And I said, "Not many."

And Tiny One hissed, "And what _inanity_ threw you into a _mindless stupor this time?_"

And I said, "Tinier words please."

And Tiny One roared, "_Why did you stop?_"

And I said, "Found smell-stuff. Smells good."

And Flamey One said, "Grass?"

And I said, "Yes."

And Flamey One said, "Put it by your door so I can smell. Please. The Dyad's cave stinks."

And I said, "Nope. Mine."

And I was happy.

Ugh, head is hurting now.

I sleep.

* * *

_Author's Note_: I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but s_orry this one's late again, guys!_ ;)~ I was working on another fiction. But that one started stalling out, and a friend threatened to eat my soul if I didn't update Dragon Journals anyway, so hear ya go! ^_^


	13. Night Fury Entry 9

Night Fury  
Entry 9

Fishbone didn't come yesterday.

I didn't feel very good. My head still hurt.

When I woke up I thought I was still in the field with the good smells and the bugs. But I was back in the hole. I remembered. I came back because I'd been thirsty.

I drank a lot of water.

The neck-thing was still on me, and it rubbed and squeezed and hurt. I tried to get it off, but I couldn't reach it with my claws _or_ my teeth. I tried rolling on my back, but that made it worse.

I waited for Fishbone for so long, but he never came.

I was hungry.

He'd been bringing me food. I wanted him to come.

I tried to skim some fish from the water again. But without Fishbone, I couldn't balance. There was nothing to hold my left fin open and steady. I fell in. And when I crawled out, the neck-thing rubbed and squeezed and stuck even tighter. I didn't like it. I wanted it to let go.

I roared for Fishbone. It made my head hurt more.

I tried to climb out again.

But I couldn't do it.

And I couldn't catch any fish.

I wanted my Fishbone.

I cried.

I didn't know what I was doing. Why did I have to be stuck on the ground? I missed my roost and blackened rocks. I missed the sky. I missed my _tail_. _I'm not a Flame-Skin_.

_I was so hungry_.

I called for Fishbone until the moon came, and then I went to sleep.

Today he came back. He had new brown stripes on his green skin, and little scales on his shoulders and chest. The chest-scale is bright. Had he been changing skins? Is that what had kept him so long? But couldn't mans do it faster than that?

He brought fish for me in his craw again, and I ate them all quickly. It made my belly feel better, but I told him the neck-thing was hurting me. I couldn't get it off. I couldn't reach.

He didn't understand, and tried to put the long man-tail on my left tail-fin again.

I told him No! I wanted the neck-thing off! It was _hurting_ me! I rolled and scratched and reached.

He made a lot of mewling sounds and then yammered the hiss-growl over and over. The hiss-growl that was submissiveness and care and help. It's his kindest sound. _Hiss_-_growl_.

And he came and I felt his paws against my neck and chest, and he made the neck-thing let go, and he took it and dropped it on the ground.

I licked him. I licked him all up his neck and face and head-fur. It tasted oily and dirty but I didn't care. "Thank you," I told him, "Thank you, thank you, _thank you_. I'm glad you came back. I missed you."

I wish he could understand me.

I scratched where the neck-thing had been. I couldn't reach all the places I wanted to. But Fishbone helped. He scratched me with his nubby little man-claws.

Maybe he understands enough.

It felt good. His claws are sharper than they look. A _tiny_ sharpness, like thistles. They're still harmless I think, but _just_ sharp enough to be scratchy.

It felt so nice. I stopped moving and just let him scratch and scratch, all over my back where I'd felt smothered, down my shoulders and on my sides and on my _neck_... I really... _really_ liked it when he scratched my neck. That felt good.

I lay right down and just sighed. "_Thank you, Fishbone_," I said.

I didn't want to move after that. And Fishbone didn't try to make me. I think he at least knew that I didn't want the neck-thing to grab me again. He sat down next to me and just rubbed my shoulder for a while.

We didn't go flying.

I wondered what the neck-thing was for anyway. I opened my right eye to look at it. If all it took to control my left tail-fin was Fishbone and the long man-tail... why did we need the neck-thing?

I looked at it closer and noticed it seemed to have grown some teeth. Two fangs. They were on the top side, and they curved around and in on themselves.

I wondered if it would bite me if Fishbone put it on me again.

But I knew Fishbone didn't mean to hurt me. He wouldn't let the neck-thing hurt me either. Not on purpose.

After a while I heard him make a weird noise. At first I thought it was a new kind of call. But then I realized it was his little belly growling.

He must not have eaten. I tried to mimic his hiss-growl noise, for not remembering to share. I don't think he understood me, but I vomited a nice big piece of fish for him anyway.

He didn't eat it.

Maybe he still thinks of me like an Alpha. You don't eat the Alpha's food.

Oh the Alpha...

Are the others able to get enough food, without me there?

...I hope Fishbone can help me fly again soon.

Eventually Fishbone took the neck-thing and the man-craw, and climbed out of the hole. He made his goodbye noise, and I mimicked it, and he was gone.

I hope I see him again tomorrow.


	14. Nadder Entry 2

Nadder  
Entry 2

The Venom-Hisser said to be careful.

But I'm _always_ careful. I never let the mans _touch_ me.

I'm always careful, aren't I?

Then why do I feel so relaxed? I let them get too close. I was so stupid toady, I was an _idiot_... I'm lucky I'm still alive.

My cave door opened, and the man-cage was clear and empty. All the wood from the last time was gone and I could see the second door. I saw it, and I remembered it. I hated looking at it, but I _remembered_ it.

It'll give me nightmares again, I just know it.

But at least the air out in the man-cage was fresh—the Dyad's cave is still bleeding an evil stench. It's unbearable being so close to it all the time.

The Dyad are still alive; I can hear them breathing at night. But I haven't caught so much as a mewl from either one of them since the evil fish appeared. The silence is isolating, here on the end.

_What did the mans do to them?_ I've tried so hard to help them, but there's nothing I can do.

I hope they're all right.

But I wasn't thinking about them out in the man-cage. I could see the second door. I had to try to break through. These mans mean to _kill_ us in here.

Stick-Foot's litter was between me and the second door; I had to deal with them first. And possibly with Stick-Foot himself.

I saw Yellow-Head right away; I wanted to avoid him. He scares me out of my mind, but I couldn't let _him_ know that. I roared and flamed and clawed and charged, and all the mans scattered.

I tried to cut down their numbers. They're still young. They can still be frightened, and herded, and deterred from attacking. It's not as bad when the whole litter isn't coming after you.

Easy mans first. The fat one is always the quickest to be driven to the wall and into hiding. Next Whip-Fur, Club-Fur, Curl-Horn... And there's a tiny one that never comes close anyway; I was ignoring him.

That was my mistake. I can't ignore _any_ of them. Not even a little. They could _kill_ me next time. Cut me down and rip me up and _eat_ me! I don't know why they didn't do it _this_ time!

It doesn't matter. I just can't get careless again.

I had pushed four of them over, knocked them down, scared them off. It was me and Yellow-Head, and I was short on flame. He's faster and more precise with his tooth now. But at least he still bites at all the wrong places. When I was trying to chase him away, he bit straight at my head.

I'm glad he did. I really am. It was an _easy_ block with my forehorn, but his tooth is _so sharp_... Did he _really_ have to try _SO_ hard that he had to leave a _gouge_ in the very bone of my _face?_ I can feel it with my wing-edge. Yellow-Head's tooth left a—a—a _scar!_ A _chip!_ There is a _chip!_ In my _horn!_ I swear I could see the piece fly off when his tooth hit me. You can't _FIX_ that! Is it not enough that they try to _eat_ us every day? Why must these whelps _deform_ me!

Yellow-Head _barely_ missed my jaws. _Oh I wanted to crunch him_.

The tiny man was close by. I charged to drive him away like the others, but he didn't move. I ran and ran at him, roaring to get back or die, but he just stood there. When I was within three bounds he shed his tooth, but he _still_ didn't move. He just stood still right up until I was within tongue's reach of him. I looked at him, and at his tooth on the ground.

I wondered if he was just sick. Or insane.

Then I heard Yellow-Head howl again, and I looked away from the tiny one. Stupid, _stupid!_

Yellow-Head had regained his tooth and was swinging to bite.

And then I felt the tiny one's paw on my _neck_. He was going to clamp, and I was going to die.

But then he started... _scratching_ me. He was _scratching_ behind my head. And... it just felt... well... _nice_. It felt... _really_ nice.

_Really_... really nice.

I wasn't thinking. What was he doing? Why was he doing it? What was _I_ doing? My eye saw Yellow-Head running in with his tooth, but...

What was I doing?

And then the little one scratched under my neck, and... I can't remember what happened after that. I just remember being comfortable. And scared at the same time. Was this how they finally kill you?

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

And I hit the ground. That felt good. Good enough to _sleep_ to.

But they didn't kill me.

I did, however, find out what the Stone-Hide's _Big Mans_ are. Great fat stinking hairy-faced mans that come and press you to your feet and lead you blind and dumb back into your cave. My back felt floppy as a wet reed. I didn't want to move. I still don't want to move. I feel too... comfortable. Except for being back near the evil smell.

And of course the Venom-Hisser asked me what had happened. I told him I didn't know. I'd been down, but they hadn't killed me. I was happy enough for that.

And _all the same questions_ came; so _typical_... The _Man Matriarch_, the _Choosing_, the _Head-Ripper_... Where does the Venom-Hisser get off always _hounding_ me like this? He's only been here the _second_-longest. _He's_ not the Alpha here.

_If I could reach him with my claws_...

I told him the Head-Ripper wasn't there! Neither was the Matriarch. Nothing happened. The little man-whelp put me down, and that was it. I don't know how. I was fine. I just wanted to sleep.

But then the Stone-Hide rumbled from all the way across to ask me if I'd seen the tiny man shed his tooth when I was out in the man-cage. I told him I had, as a matter of fact. And so he suggested we call that one _Toothless_.

(The Stone-Hide's been giving _names_ to this litter.)

The Flame-Skin and I told him that was fine; we could call him that. But the Venom-Hisser fell back to berating him for even wasting his time with the thought and for being such a simpleton.

I grow tired of that arrogant little Venom-Worm. He forgets his place. He should know the line for dispensing abuse forms behind _me_.

But then... an Alpha shouldn't abuse his own in the first place.

Fortunately the Stone-Hide really _does_ have a stone hide.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Yes yes yes I know this update was exceedingly-incredibly-mind-numbingly sluggish. I am sorry! It's just kind of hard to update when you're working on two fics at once!

I'm trying, guys! I really am!


	15. Night Fury Entry 10

_Author's Note_: Whoops! Forgot to post here as well as on DA. Uh, so hey, those wondering what the heck was keeping me from updating for so long can find the answer at the following url, minus the spaces:

http : / / contraltissimo . deviantart . com / gallery / # / d3046mw

But now that countdown is all done and over with, soooo... on with Dragon Journals!

* * *

Night Fury  
Entry 10

Fishbone has the BEST—TOYS—_EVER!_ We had _so much fun_ today—I wished he could have stayed. But he's gone back to his man-roost for the night.

We did more flying today. We've been getting better and better. The neck-thing has also been growing. Fishbone takes it away with him most nights, and always brings it back thicker and stronger. It's grown more tails; some of them are _very_ long now. It's grown strange tusks and horns and more teeth too—but it never bites me.

With so many tails, it's been taking longer and longer for the neck-thing to grab on to me when we go to fly. But Fishbone always brings plenty of fish, and those fill the time happily enough.

But today he brought something I hadn't encountered with him for a long time, though I could smell it plain as day when he climbed into the hole.

Fishbone was carrying _man-teeth_.

He had them in another craw, a smaller one.

I heard him call his names for me in greeting: _Ember-Hiss_. _Footfall_.

And I said, "Hello, Fishbone."

He set the little craw on the ground close by. I could smell the mountain-bone man-teeth inside it. It's a strong smell.

Everything else happened the same. Fishbone spilled the big craw for me, and I ate. He put the neck-thing on my back and started making it grab on. It was big, and tangly, and had the most tails I had seen it with yet.

But I kept my eye on the little craw the whole time.

Fishbone just mewled and murmured away like normal as the neck-thing grabbed on. There wasn't the long, thick man-tail to control the fin anymore. Just the thinner tails from the neck-thing. They snaked around the tusk circling my left foreleg, and then down my left side and around my hind-fin, and then all the way to the tail-fin. It looks so complicated. But Fishbone is clever and knows what he is doing. And I've seen stranger things that mans have made.

When he was done, he took the little craw, still unspilled, and tucked it into his fur, and climbed up on my back.

He settled his hind paws onto the two new horns on the neck-thing, and barked to go.

So we went.

We were getting smoother in the air. Fishbone made the neck-thing's tails pull and flex my tail-fin by turning the horns with his hind paws. He kept the shape steady enough for us to get out of the hole _easily_.

It was still a little shaky, though. After only a few bounds, Fishbone made the _hiss_-_pop_ sound for me to stop, and he got off to look and touch and pull at the neck-thing and all its tails. He started to take it off my neck, and I was afraid he didn't want to try anymore for the day. But _I_ wanted to keep trying. We were getting better! I didn't want to stop.

The neck-thing came loose, and he took it and set it on a rock on the ground.

And then I saw him take the little craw out of his fur. I knew what was inside.

He burrowed inside it with one paw; there were sharp, scraping noises... and then he pulled out a _man-tooth_, dark and cold and shining, with a wooden root.

It was unlike any man-tooth I had ever seen, forked like a stunted tree and blunt on one end—but the smell and the sheen were unmistakable.

I remembered his first tooth. Or the first tooth of his that _I_ had seen. He had shed it and kicked it into the pond. Had he grown this tooth to replace the old one? It didn't look very sharp.

"What are you going to do with that?" I asked him.

Of course he didn't answer. He didn't understand me.

Seeing the tooth in his paw, part of me feared being bitten. But he didn't turn the tooth on me. He turned it on the neck-thing.

He took one of the neck-thing's tusks in his paw, and pinned it against the rock, and with the blunt part of the tooth in his other paw, he started biting it. It made a sharp sound when tooth and tusk came together. I didn't like it. The sound of grinding man-teeth. The sound of man-teeth against man-scales. It made my eyes water.

I hate that sound.

"Fishbone, stop it," I said.

But he didn't stop.

"_Fishbone_," I said again. I came closer. I wanted to nose the tusk out of his paws, but not while that tooth was biting down on it.

He bit the tusks, the horns, and some places where the soft parts and the hard parts came together. It was so _irritating_...

He didn't even eat any of it.

I don't suppose mans _would_ eat the things they make. They just... chew them. So odd...

When he seemed satisfied, Fishbone finally dropped his tooth into its little craw with another scraping sound. He put the neck-thing back over my shoulders and made all the tails grab on again. Then he tucked the craw back into his fur, and climbed up on my back, setting his hind paws against the horns again and making a lot of happy sounds.

And he barked to go.

So we went. Again.

There was some kind of difference. Fishbone's changes in the tail-fin felt smoother. We could go for longer distances. It was exciting! I roared and Fishbone howled his wolf-cry.

But then, after only _two_ bounds, we were on the ground and Fishbone _hiss_-_popped_, _again_, and got off my back, _again!_ "Fishbone!" I rumbled at him, "Let's keep flying!"

He only mewled and pawed my neck. Then he took out his craw, pulled out his man-tooth again, and came toward me.

I stepped away. I do trust him, but... it was a _tooth_.

Of course then he looked at me so innocently and mewled and purred.

I said, "Let me see it," and turned to smell, carefully. He understood enough, and held it still in his paws. It smelled just like any other man-tooth, though the ember-scent seemed thicker than normal.

He brought it toward my side and I stood still. I felt him pull one of the tails away from my body, and then some tiny jerks as he bit the horn a few times.

"Fishbone, that _noise_," I rumbled. I really, _really_ wish he could understand me.

He walked around to my other side and did the same thing to the other horn.

That's when I saw the _star_.

It was on the ground right in front of me. At first I thought it was a bug, just flicking back and forth, tempting as a _foolish rabbit_...

I _pounced!_ Fishbone yelped—and my paws clamped down on the ground.

_Ember-Hiss!_ Fishbone called me. And I picked up my paws... and there was nothing there.

I looked around and Fishbone murmured. I couldn't see the star anywhere. "Did you see that, Fishbone?" I asked.

But Fishbone just mewled and bent down and went back to chewing the horn. He only bit at it for a moment longer. I was glad when he stopped.

Then, just as he was looking at his new bite-marks on the horn, I saw the star again. It definitely wasn't a bug at all. It _glowed_. A star right out of the sky. I'd never seen one so _close_ before. "_Fishbone!_" I called, "Look!" And I pounced on the star again. But when I picked up my paws, they were empty.

I looked at Fishbone. He looked at me. He didn't move.

I felt foolish.

And then I saw the star on my foreleg. I pawed at it, and it jumped through my claws and onto the back of my other paw. I couldn't even feel it against my skin. I tried to _bite_ it... But it disappeared.

I looked and scratched all around for it, and then I looked at Fishbone again. He _had_ to have seen it _that_ time. He stood stiffly, with his paws held behind him, away from me. His eyes were very wide and afraid. I must have startled him.

But then he made a trembling kind of thrumming noise that shook his shoulders, and he bared his happy teeth. _Ember-Hiss_, he crooned, and he brought his paws out and bared his man-tooth again. He held it in both paws.

The mountain-bone shimmered like the sun on the sea, and then its light seared my eye and I blinked.

And then the star was on the ground in front of me again. I tried to grab it, but it moved. It trembled on the dirt, just out of reach. It knew I was after it now. It was _taunting_ me!

Well, _I_ would catch it...

I _jumped_.

The star was so _fast!_ It flew across the ground, it could climb on _anything_, and it could hide without making a _sound_. I chased it all around the clearing, over the rocks, up onto the trunks of trees, in and out of bushes...

But I could never catch it.

I could never catch it.

Just like I can never touch them in the sky.

They only come out after dark. They hover all night, way up high, and watch the sea. Sometimes you see them diving for fish, faster than lightning. Sometimes whole flocks dive together. They're really beautiful. I've always wanted to test my speed against one of them.

I couldn't match this one on the ground. But if I could _fly_...

Oh, if I could _fly_...

I chased the star for so long... And when I was tired, the star leaped into Fishbone's man-tooth, and flashed my eyes again from the dark mountain-bone... and then its fire died, and it disappeared.

Fishbone put the man-tooth into its craw, and tucked the craw back into his fur.

He murmured at me. _Footfall_.

I walked to him and sniffed against his fur where he had buried his tooth. I could still smell the sharpness and the embers under his oily man-smells. I wondered if the ember-scent had come from the _star_. Was that what stars smelled like? It would make sense. Their tiny fires can burn for so long. There must always be embers.

Fishbone climbed onto my back again and pawed my neck and purred.

He was ready to try again.

Despite the thrill of star-chasing, I remembered our balance getting better, and our bounding, and our joyous skimming over the trees. I was ready to try again too.

And Fishbone barked.

And I leaped.

And we went.

We did more flying, and it _was_ exciting. We could soar for longer and longer times. And Fishbone _was_ getting better at flaring to the right shapes when we faltered.

But it would be nice to see that star again.

I used to wonder how wingless things could even stand to live.

But I didn't know mans could call down the very _stars_ to be their playmates.

There's a man-sound I'd like to learn. How to call a star.


	16. Terrible Terror Entry 1

_Author's Note_: Reviewer Klei made my day the other day when she reviewed the previous chapter of The Dragon Journals and informed me that this story was recommended by TVTropes!

! I just cannot express my surprise and delight at this! Thanks for letting me know, Klei! ^_^

Something else I noticed while on that website was that FjordMustang's story, To Soar Into The Sunset, was _also_ recommended by TVTropes! Ah, to anyone who has not read this story, I _highly_ recommend it myself!

And now! On to the long-awaited Venom-Hisser!

* * *

Terrible Terror  
Entry 1

Day seven-hundred-eighty-three of my captivity.

I've thought of a new stanza for my poem.

_O Moon's cold fire, Bright Stone in the sky,  
the Glowing Splinter you make to crawl  
through my door and across my floor,  
always toward me as I sleep.  
Like a sharp man's Tooth.  
Is it come to kill me?_

Oh bother, it's better when sung, flown and flamed.

(It _has_ come to kill me, by the by. Even the very _stars_ deride me in my grotto. Am I a fool?)

Oh this is all neither here nor there. I've got to think. Which would be _easier_ if I were not so _hungry_...

Right, then. My wretchedly requisite positive observation for the day:

...

I am still alive and un-Chosen.

Oh but I _always say that_. How many _countless_ times have I used that one before? Again and again I keep falling back on it like a bad excuse. I can't remember the last time I've said something different.

What were the things I used to observe? Old sheep heads from the food-hole, having a food-hole at all, dryness from the rain and shelter from the snow... more... sheep heads oh scorch it who am I fooling? I hate it here.

Speaking of the food-hole, it's overdue to spit out another sheep head. The flies have commandeered what remains of the last one, I'm afraid. (I can never eat the base of the brain—the taste—it's just so... _awful_.) And now it's grown... _rancid_. Rancid something ridiculous.

Not that I don't take a certain, twisted... _juvenile_ pleasure in watching the maggots _pop_ when I flame them, but—ugh...

...

The olfactory... _tempestuocities_ of this dung-hole man-cage never cease to _astound_ me.

I crammed the leftovers into the deep corner with the rest of this year's trailings. The pile is already so _big_... Would it _kill_ Stick-Foot to come and swipe out the bones more than _once every winter?_ What, just because my portions are _smaller_ than those of my fellows? I can only push them back so far! I flame the tiny bits and the leftover flesh I can't reach to _ashes_, and yet _still!_ This _SMELL!_ WHY?

No, I must be _calm_... _positive_, think _positive_...

_Oh_, there's no _light_ here, there's no _sky_, it's _cold_, it's _damp_, the _buzzing flies_ are _endless_...

_For what?_

I had always thought the Alpha would be the end of me. That either one day I would misstep or slip up and he would crunch me and have done with it... or some other would pluck my carrion carcass from the Holy North drop it into his den.

Was not that Shore once _sacred?_

Ugh, but to think that I'd end up being stuck to die in some _smelly old man-hole_...

_Why do they TOY with me so?_

I daresay I almost _miss_ the old hierarchy of the home roost. No one appreciates me here.

_Why_ can't they just _get it past their scales and into their little acorn brains_ that we need to ALIGN OUR EFFORTS TO ESCAPE THIS DEATH-HOLE!

_OH_ how many TIMES I could have _left them all!_ The man-cage can't hold _me_. Do they think _I_ care seven whits for the blasted second door? I could soar up and wriggle through the web of man-tails any time I _wanted_—I—_any time_...

_Oh for all the skies above_...

_I'm only trying to help_.

Can't they see that? Is it so _hard_ for them to frighten the little man-whelps away so they can get to the door? To where they'll have a _chance?_ _They're_ big enough. Their _flames_ are strong enough! How do they think _I_ feel? _Little_ man-whelps indeed! The smallest of them could _crush_ me with one paw! Take off my head with the _tiniest_ of its teeth! And yet Stick-Foot spares _me_ not!

I should have flown away. I should have flown away, _I should have flown away_... _Ohhh_ I hate this feeling—made worse by that I inflict it upon myself every _time_...

Because Stick-Foot unstopped my door today, to make me the chew-toy for his whelps.

_Oh_, _every_ time this happens... why don't I just _leave?_

Is there something wrong with me? Have I been away from the roost and from the other Venom-Hissers so long that somewhere beneath my conscious will I have... _bonded_ with these others, with these... this rabble of assorted man-snacks? Is this my family? My kin?

What a pitiful little flock we make.

We are all but walking corpses.

Family enough. And I the resident Beta, after all.

I wonder if the Bone-Weavers ever come to the man-roost. When I am gone and my flesh devoured by maggots... will they still find me? Will my dusty wings fly again?

Or is my skull fated to adorn some bower of wood when next Stick-Foot sings for a mate?

And they'll bring forth more man-whelps to chew on other Dragons they'll have captured...

The Quill-Back has told me _stories_ of the Venom-Hisser before me.

But I've lived _this_ long.

Ah, but I feel _mad_...

What is wrong with me?

Stick-Foot unstopped my door, and I slipped into the sunlight.

Stick-Foot stood afar off. His litter circled around me. They bore teeth.

Heartbeats were wasting. I scanned the man-cage. The second door had been remade. The one sagging man-tail above had grabbed back onto the web. The spaces between the tails were still too small for anyone but myself. The widest space, above the wall-crack, _might_ be made big enough for the Stone-Hide at least, perhaps if he could bend the mountain-bone to the right of it. I took note of where it was in relation to his door.

Above the man-cage, there were twenty-two mans standing and watching. Ten males, twelve females. No Head-Ripper. But I saw the Matriarch.

I almost became afraid there would be a Choosing. But I collected myself; they never Choose without the Great Head-Ripper and all his bellowing banter with the man-pack.

That was six heartbeats. I didn't have time. The litter would attack soon. I looked back at them. Four males, two females. (I think. I wasn't quite sure about the "Club-Fur" whelp.)

I took stock of them just in time. The "Whip-Fur" whelp snarled and moved his tooth toward me.

_You have to make the first move_, with mans. You have to take _initiative_. You can't let them think they can get the better of you.

I leaped.

It scares me silly every time.

Fortunately young mans are startled by sudden movements. And if you can _impress_ something to be _afraid_ of you, well, that's a good start.

I splayed my claws and started ripping into the man's fur. I _pulled_ and _scratched_ and _bit_ and _clawed_ for _some_ sort of purchase where I could inflict some _pain_...

I finally clamped my jaws onto his great, ugly, protruding blob of a nose... and hung on for dear life.

Ugh, his blood tasted like salty dirt.

And then... the most extraordinary thing happened. I saw a brightness through my left eyelid, and I opened my eyes, and noticed that a _star_ seemed to have alighted upon my cheek.

I had never seen a _star_ so _close_ before. Its flame was so small I couldn't even feel it. It jumped onto the ground, and I followed it.

The man-whelp rolled away from me, howling. I noted with mild interest that it was the same cry I had heard over and over during the past many days—I'd been wondering what kept setting off one of the whelps to make that noise.

But then I turned back to the star. "What are you doing here?" I said, "Can't you see there are _mans_ down here?"

It did not answer me. It kept leaping out of reach.

I tried to get its attention, thinking how to turn this chance meeting into an advantage. "I need help!" I pleaded, "There are other Dragons in these man-caves, and we are _trapped_ here! Can you help us?"

It still offered no response.

"We need to break through these doors!" I tried once more, "Your flock is numberless—can you lend us your flame? We need to escape!"

And then the star flitted into my cave!

"Don't go in there!" I yelped. I followed it. "You'll be trapped too!" I wormed halfway under my door, reaching for it.

And the star seemed to understand, and it quivered with fear in the dark. I grabbed for it, and tried to show it the way.

And the star... _barely_ escaped... _just_ as the door closed.

And I was on the wrong side of it.

_Idiot_.

Trapped once more.

Was it foolish?

Aoh all my hopes and despairs, how they _savage_ each other now! Did it get away? Stars are fast enough; they are the swiftest creatures in the sky. And I didn't hear the mans going after it... Will it deliver my message? Could the endless flock of ever-flaming stars help us? Oh what if it was only some lost hatchling? _Oh cinders and dust could it even understand me?_ Did it _mean_ this?

What am I doing?

_What am I doing?_

_Hhhhhhh_.

The others are still bombarding me with their ceaseless queries, but... _I feel lost_.

I already told them it was a _star_ I was talking to, I _told_ them!

I don't think the Quill-Back believes me.

But the Stone-Hide does.

Even now, he wants me to describe it to him. _Again_.

Oh the poor, moronic Stone-Hide.

_How did we come to this?_


	17. Night Fury Entry 11

Thanks for Dragon Journals' ONE HUNDREDTH REVIEW, DarthCraftus! ^_^

HAY GUESS WUT I'm not dead. More Dragon Journals! Oh my gosh it's late and I need to sleep. But I thought I'd come over here and post this for all y'all first. Fresh off the Microsoft Word document! Here's chapter seventeen.

To all of you my lovely favorite readers, I am so sorry that I am unable to respond to unsigned reviews! But please, PLEASE rest assured that I am NOT going to abandon this story, and that I WILL see it through to its end. Sometimes life happens, and I get slow. Just bear with me.

Of course, those of you who want to keep closer tabs on me can always visit my DeviantArt account at

contraltissimo . deviantart . com

Minus the spaces.

Now enjoy the next chapter, folks! But I'm goin' to bed. :) G'night!

Oh yeah P.S.! He didn't get a very good look at her, so before anybody fires off about it, just chill out about the gender-confusion. _Wait_ for it, my peeps.

* * *

Night Fury  
Entry 11

Today was a very, _very_ long day with Fishbone. It was the longest time I've ever spent with him.

We did _everything_ today.

And I saw so much.

He didn't come yesterday, and so I almost went hungry.

But yesterday... I finally caught a fish of my own!

It took a few tries. I climbed up on the big root, and I watched the fish for a long time... and then when one of them came near the shore, I _flamed_ into the water, and _splashed_ the fish onto the sand! It flopped and jumped and almost made it back in, but I was quick, and I jumped down, and crunched it.

And I remembered the taste... The ones Fishbone always brings in his man-craw taste like they've been dead for a long time. But _this_ one, the one I caught yesterday... was_fresh_, and _oily_, and _delicious_.

I was very proud of myself.

I was going to save some to vomit for Fishbone, but he never came. His loss.

Today when he finally came back, I told him, "You missed some _really good fish_, Fishbone! Too bad!"

Of course he didn't understand me. But when he came closer to me he was panting, and he kept looking around. He was carrying so many things, and he dropped them all, and mewled, and shaded his face with his paws. I think he felt nervous. I didn't know if he was all right. I sniffed him all over, but he smelled just the same as he always does. Like embers. Maybe a little sweatier.

I felt sorry for taunting him, and gave him a lick and a nuzzle. He seemed to calm down after that, and he pawed my neck and murmured. _Footfall_.

He was fine.

I wonder what spooked him, though.

Fishbone spilled his craw, I ate the fish, and he put all the man-things on me again. It seems like there are always more and more tails that need to grab on, but Fishbone is getting better at making them do it faster.

And when all the man-things were ready, Fishbone climbed on my back and barked, and we flew out.

It's so easy to leave the hole now. It's not a prison anymore. At least, not when Fishbone is with me.

We stayed together so long today.

Maybe when he finally learns how to feel the wind and flex the tail-fin accordingly... maybe I can take him with me. Take him home. I can take care of him. He can help me skim and I can feed us both.

Maybe...

We bounded and flew short distances, and Fishbone leaned and pushed and pulled on the neck-thing in a direction we hadn't gone before. He seemed intent. I followed his moves. We flew over a lot of trees until we came to a big grassy cliff beside the sea, and then Fishbone pushed down. He wanted to land.

It was hard. The wind was strong, and the floor-draft was thin. And then Fishbone pulled in the tail-fin too fast and I dropped.

We landed heavier than normal, right near the edge of the cliff, next to a dead tree stump. And Fishbone made the _hiss_-_pop_ for me to stop, and got down from my back.

At first I was afraid he was going to pull another clanging man-tooth from his fur somewhere and start chewing the horns and tusks on the neck-thing again. But he didn't.

Instead, he pulled out the old man-tail. The thicker, lighter one that he used to use to flare my tail-fin. He made one end of the man-tail grab onto the tree stump. It wrapped around twice and grabbed onto itself in a strong hold, in a twining snake-pattern.

I like looking at the snake-patterns. But when Fishbone was done making them, he pushed against me. He wanted me to move away. I didn't know why. I never know why. It's like humoring a hatchling.

I took a few steps back until he seemed satisfied.

Then Fishbone took the other end of the man-tail, and made it grab onto one of the tails on the neck-thing, the one that grabs across my chest.

He cooed a lot of happy noises the whole time, and when he was done, he got up on my back, and barked again. To fly.

But the man-tail was binding me to the earth. I didn't understand him. Did he want me to try and rip the stump out of the ground and carry it away? I'm not _that_ strong.

He barked and barked, and I _told_ him, "Fishbone, I can't go until the man-tail lets go."

But he just kept barking.

"You'll see!" I roared. And I turned and jumped and tried to fly.

I knew what was going to happen. I kept my paws splayed wide so when the man-tail held me back and threw me to the ground, I landed evenly.

It didn't hurt. I was glad for that. I'd had much worse landings trying to escape the hole.

"Do you see yet?" I roared, and jumped again, and again the tail held me back and I landed on the ground.

And then Fishbone stuttered his ripple-call, and howled _hiss_-_pop!_

So I stopped.

Fishbone leaned and pushed. I tried to walk in the direction he wanted me to go, but he _hiss_-_popped_ again, and got down.

He pushed me with his paws again.

"I don't understand you, Fishbone!" I barked at him.

Then I saw. He wanted me to turn around and face the stump again. My feet got tangled in the man-tail for a bit, but I got myself turned around.

And Fishbone climbed up on my back, again, and barked, _again_. He wanted me to fly _into_ the wind. Over the stump.

"More running room won't make a difference," I told him, "and when the man-tail stops me, we'll fall into the sea."

He just kept barking and cooing his calls for me. _Ember-Hiss_, _Footfall_, _Footfall_, _Ember-Hiss!_

I walked to the edge and looked down into the water. Fishbone just yammered away on my back and tried to lean and pull me back. "Be quiet," I growled to him, "I can't go _everywhere_ you want me to go."

It was a long way down, and there were rocks at the bottom. It looked cold.

I was tired of this game. I rumbled, "Open wide and I'll try and hover."

Of course he didn't understand my voice. But he understood my wings and my back when I crouched to spring.

I knew it would be very hard... Only Stone-Hides can hover very well.

I felt Fishbone make the man-things open the fin, and then I jumped and _pumped the air with my wings_, _hard_.

I flapped for as long as I could, just over the tree stump, but Fishbone ripple-called again. And _Hiss_-_pop!_ _Hiss_-_pop!_ he howled.

So I brought in my wings and dropped to the ground.

Fishbone got off my back again and pushed me back _again_ so the man-tail became straight and taut, and I was facing into the wind.

"_What do you want me to do?_" I roared. I told him it was stupid. I told him to make the man-tail let go.

But he walked around to my side, and he pawed at my wing. He pressed it back so the wind curled underneath. It was cold, so as soon as he walked away I furled my wing again.

But Fishbone just went right to my _other_ wing, and did the same thing, and pressed it open. When he let go, I folded it close to me again, and he _howled_ at me!

He pressed and pressed on my wing again. He went back and grabbed the tip and pulled it out in his little paws so my wing would open again.

I pulled it back and snarled at him, "It's _cold_, Fishbone! I'm done with this game!"

But he came back and grabbed the tip again, and pulled my wing open for all its halfspan.

The wind was strong and it pulled on me. But I just sighed. I guessed that the fastest way to be done with the game was to just do what he wanted. I left my wing open and tried to stand straight against the wind.

Then Fishbone came back around to my other side, and pulled my other wing out straight.

And the wind was so strong that with my wings at fullspan it was going to knock me over!

But the man-tail caught me!

Fishbone yelped.

I sat on my haunches and tried to hold my wings steady, but the wind pressed so _hard_. It wanted to blow them back and clap them behind my spine.

I stood up on my hind legs and slouched on the air. It was so strong it curled under me and lifted me up. But then I felt myself rolling and I remembered my tail wasn't ready! Fishbone wasn't there. And I couldn't grab the air. My tail whipped through and I rolled to the side, and fell on the ground again.

Fishbone put his paws up in the air and _hissed_, and bared his happy teeth.

"No!" I told him. The wind pressed me and wanted to pin me at the end of the man-tail again.

But Fishbone came quick, and climbed up on my back, and opened my tail wide.

I fell on the wind again, and it caught me, and I grabbed onto it, and I floated.

And I was _soaring_.

But I was _hovering!_ Just in one place. Like a Stone-Hide.

The wind was making me soar, but the man-tail binding me to the earth was making me stay there, and making me _hover_.

Fishbone _hissed_ and _hissed_ on my back. He was excited.

_I_ was excited! I've floated before, way up high and looking down for good skimming waters. But never so _still_, like this. When you float into the wind near the tall rocks it's hard to stay in one place. But _this_ was _steadier_ than a Stone-Hide! It was so _strange_ seeing the ground so unmoving less than half a span away. I was _in_ the very floor-draft, I was so low.

I admitted to Fishbone I didn't mind the game so much now that I understood it. It was a _great_ game! We could play it for as long as he liked.

He pawed my neck and murmured.

I felt him move and shift and settle himself. And then he made the fin move.

He moved it too fast and I felt myself rolling, so I brought in my wings and dropped to the ground.

That was a good float. I tried to look at Fishbone and see if his happy teeth were still bared, but it's hard to see him when he's sitting on my shoulders. Out of the side of one eye I could just see his head looking down and his paws moving.

Then a _big_ gust came. I opened wide to float again. I liked this game.

But I felt a slip in the man-things, and then the man-tail _let go of me!_

I didn't have a good hold on the wind, and it threw me into the trees. Fishbone _howled_...

I landed on my back.

I hadn't crashed so hard since I was first trapped in the big hole, and trying to get out. It was _dazing_.

I didn't feel Fishbone underneath me, and that was good. I remembered I was too heavy for him. I opened my eyes and saw him on the ground beside me.

I rolled away from him to get to my feet. But something pulled on the neck-thing. I shook my head, and saw that it was Fishbone. I had dragged him even closer to me. Then I saw why. One of the little tails from his brown belly-stripe was still holding on to the neck-thing. He grabbed it with his paw and moaned.

He stood up, and pulled on it, and then he came close and I could feel his paws scrabbling and scratching and tugging.

I twisted my head as far as I could, and I saw that one of the curved fangs on the neck-thing had _bitten_ Fishbone's belly-stripe tail, and it wouldn't let go.

At first I was afraid for him—I thought it must hurt. But he didn't seem to be in pain. He just murmured and pried and pushed and huffed to free himself.

But after a moment he stopped, and just looked. He pawed at his belly-stripe and his other little tail and all his brown skin, and he pawed the neck-thing some more. And he huffed again.

He mewled and looked around, and I saw there were two small man-things nearby. He went to pick them up, and I had to follow. We were bound to each other.

One of the man-things looked like a big old dead scale or a piece of skin. The other was a _stick_. It was just like the stick that Fishbone dropped in the hole before, with one end all burned up.

He tucked the man-things between his skins, and he pulled me toward the tree stump and the long man-tail again.

He wanted to keep playing the floating game.

I walked with him. If he really wasn't hurting from the fang-bite, I was glad to play the game with him again. But I hoped his little belly-stripe tail was all right.

He made the long man-tail grab on extra tight this time before he climbed up on my back. And when he was ready, he barked, and I opened my wings, and the wind curled underneath, and we floated.

Fishbone made smaller moves with the tail-fin while we hover-soared. He flexed it slowly enough for me to feel along.

When I thought about it, it was a good way to practice!

After a while I could tell how he was going to flex the tail-fin by feeling where he was _leaning_. I could predict and anticipate his moves. _This_ was learning to fly again! _This_was learning to use my Flame-Skin tail.

It was _wonderful_ to fly again.

It was _perfect_.

We flew for so long, just bound to the stump in the earth right there, with our noses into the wind from the sea.

After a long time, Fishbone _hiss_-_popped_, softly, to stop. I guessed he must have been tired.

I was tired, too. I hadn't soared in a long time. Soaring is the easiest way to fly, but it was harder doing it in the grip of a man-tail. Just steady all the way. No updrafts, no room to swoop.

I folded my wings, and landed evenly on the ground. Fishbone got down and made the long man-tail let go of the stump and of the neck-thing, and we walked away from the cliff and into the trees.

He seemed to be looking for something. I wondered if there were any more man-things that had somehow fallen out of his furs or skins, or were scattered nearby.

But there weren't. Fishbone just wanted to try and free himself again. He found a rock he liked, and crouched down and dug it out from under a twisted root, and started using it like a tooth, gnawing on the curved fang that had bitten his little tail. He growled a lot of sharp-sounding noises the whole time.

But the fang didn't let go.

Next Fishbone tried a long stick, but that didn't make the fang let go either.

He looked at the fang and at his little tail for a long time. He murmured softly and pawed at his belly-stripe. He pulled at all the brown skin around his belly and over his chest and shoulders. I think he was trying to shed his skin. I knew he could shed skin quickly, but he seemed to be having trouble with it this time.

I offered to try and chew it off for him, but for some reason he didn't like that idea. He just kept pulling on it with his little paws. He pulled and twisted for a long time.

I lay down. Fishbone struggled with his skin a bit more, and then he lay down too. He sank to his haunches and leaned against my side. He murmured and mewled.

I wondered if his little tail was hurting him after all. I knew what a hurting tail felt like.

I licked his face and he cooed and pawed my neck.

Then I heard his little belly growl. He mewled again, and stood back up, and tried to make the fang let go with the stick one more time.

The stick broke.

Fishbone _moaned_.

He was hungry.

So I vomited a fish for him.

He didn't eat it.

I looked at the fish. It had been in my belly a long time, so it was messier than usual.

I guess I can't really blame Fishbone. _I_ wouldn't have eaten it.

So I stood up. I accidentally made him flip over with my pulling on his little tail. But I told him, "On my back, Fishbone, and we'll find some _fresher_ fish."

And he got to his feet, and climbed up on my back, and we went bounding and flying again. It was easier, after our game at the stump. We could fly for longer and longer. We were flying _already!_ Oh, it was so _good_ to be _flying_ again. And it _was_ easier, being free in the sky and not bound to the earth.

_I could finally fly again_.

It was _joyous_.

We started flying back toward the hole. I knew there were fish in the water there, and they were _good_.

But I looked for whatever I could find on the way. And I found a scrummy little deer.

I dived after it, but Fishbone didn't streamline enough. I was slow in the air.

But at least my fire was still fast. I flamed and blasted off its head as it ran.

Fishbone yelped. I think I impressed him.

Well, I _am_ impressive.

When I landed next to the kill, I felt Fishbone trembling. He didn't get down right away. I wondered if my flame had startled him. I remembered it had startled him before. And I knew the mans at the man-roost become angry like bees whenever you blow up their towers.

I crouched lower for him to get down, and he slid off my back. Then I took the deer's leg in my teeth and ripped it off for him. The bones _cracked_ so deliciously and the blood was so warm.

I laid the haunch on the ground in front of Fishbone.

He stared at it. His mouth was open.

I nosed it toward him and told him to go ahead and eat it. This was for him. He was always bringing _me_ food. And a lot of it. Now I wanted to let _him_ gorge. And he's tiny, so I knew just the leg would fill him up. (And I could eat the rest!) And this was _fresh_, too. Swallowing it and vomiting it again couldn't make it taste any better than it would taste right now.

He murmured softly and his eyes were wide. His belly growled again and he made a strange face.

"This is for you, Fishbone," I said.

Fishbone stared at it for a moment more. And then he shook himself and mewled, and started walking away.

He pulled on the little tail to make me come with him. At first I was afraid he wasn't going to eat the meat. I knew he was hungry. I didn't want him to starve.

But he only went to break some sticks from a pine tree, and rip some dead grass out of the ground, and then we both came back to the kill.

But Fishbone only dropped the sticks he had picked up, and then went back for more.

He did that _three times_.

I was starting to feel sad that he might not eat the meat. But he _finally_ sat down on his haunches, and took one of his sticks and pierced through the deer leg with it. He didn't bring it to his _mouth_, though.

But at least he was paying attention to it. And so I paid my own attention to the rest of the deer. Oh it was so yummy...

I watched Fishbone while I ate. He put the rest of the sticks and the dead grass in a little pile. Then he took a rock from the ground, and started pawing around his belly-stripe, and then he went still. And he slouched, and he moaned.

He didn't move for a few moments.

I told him to just _eat the food_, and I nosed the haunch closer to him.

He looked at me. His eyes became wide, and he came close and pawed at the tusk around my foreleg.

And then he _struck_ it with the rock in his paw. It _clanged_ terribly. I flinched. He struck it _again_ and _again_, like a biting man-tooth. I grumbled at him to stop.

But he did it a few more times, and then he crouched down low, and I heard his breath become slow and strange. His ember-smell became stronger.

I turned to see what he was doing—and there was a _flame_ in his paws.

He was breathing on it, making it flicker and flare.

He dropped the rock.

The flame was in a bundle of dead grass like a bird's nest. He cradled it tenderly in his claws, as delicate as an egg.

He buried the flame in the middle of the pile of sticks, and he breathed on it again.

Was he producing gas? Do _mans_ produce _gas?_ But I think he was only making a wind. I think. The _wind_ can make a flame move and grow.

Fishbone was making his own wind with his breath.

The flame burned up all the grass, and smoke billowed up in the air. And then the flame caught the little sticks, and then the big sticks, and it grew and grew, and gnawed on the pile, blackening the wood.

Fishbone just _made_ a fire.

I wished I had been watching him more closely. I'd never seen a man make its fire before.

Man-fire is soft, and slow, and aimless. But it burns for a long time. I've seen it at the man-roost.

But I had never seen it _created_ before.

I guess I _still_ haven't seen it created.

Fishbone used more sticks to be his man-teeth, and he ripped up the deer leg. He impaled the little pieces on the sticks and scorched them in the flame-draft.

I groaned. All the blood and sweet juices were running out and dripping away. He was losing all the best parts.

I sucked the bones of my share, and it was delicious and red and _juicy_.

But Fishbone's meat turned _brown_.

But in the end, he still ate it. And he made happy noises.

He pawed my side and murmured his names for me. _Ember-Hiss_. _Footfall_.

He was happy.

I have never sired any young. But it made me feel strong and protective to see Fishbone eat and take strength from something I killed for him. It made me feel like an Alpha. There were embers in my heart.

I love my Fishbone. He has saved me, and fed me, and shown me many amazing secrets.

And he has brought me back to the sky.

I will be his friend forever.

He stayed with me a long time. He _had_ to. We were stuck together by fang and tail.

We did everything together. We ate the kill, we drank from a stream, we practiced more flying, we marked some territory, we made more big scratch-marks in the dirt with sticks, we danced and tried not to step on each other's marks! It was hard.

We played until the sun went down.

And when it was dark, Fishbone climbed on my back again, and barked to fly, and he leaned in a direction I knew.

He wanted to go to his man-roost.

I remembered my tail-fin, and squeezing man-tails flying through the air, and I felt wary. But it was night. And night is the color of my skin. I could hide well enough.

Normally I like to hide in the sky. But we stayed low. We were careful.

When we came close enough that I could smell the mans in their nests, I slowed down. Fishbone _hiss_-_popped_, and I stopped and he slid from my back.

We walked, and circled wide around the man-roost until we came to the sea. We stayed close to the water and made our footfalls soft. As we passed the first bowers, the smells shifted from wood to mountain-bone and charred things, and hooved animals and dung. There was also a thin Dragon-scent. Maybe from past hunts here.

But the _man_-_smell_ was the worst—it was _awful_. _Sweat_ and _dirt_ and _hair_ and _oily_, _tangy things_. It was so _thick_.

We crept deeper into the man-roost and I could smell more and more mans all around us. And then I was afraid they would smell _me_. I had fish and deer and blood on my breath too. My scent was too _strong!_ This was _stupid!_ I whispered to Fishbone maybe it wasn't a good idea. But he didn't want to turn back. He pulled with his little tail. He wanted to keep going.

I could hear the mans murmuring and grumbling all around. Some of them were far away in the Great Man-Cave, roaring and howling under the mountain. Some were in their nests of wood and slow man-fires. I could hear them cooing and mewling to each other. I could hear high squeals coming from what must have been _baby_ mans. I wondered what they looked like and how big their broods were.

And then at the top of one bower I thought I saw a _gigantic_ Quill-Back, looking out from the shadows, all still. But its eyes were dead, and it didn't breathe. I sniffed and tasted for its air, but it only smelled of dead wood and oily things.

It was wood. The mans had done something to a tree and made it look like a Quill-Back. And now it decorated one of their bowers.

Their bowers smelled strange and oily, but they were very _colorful_. I imagined the mans dancing and singing for mates in front of them.

Ugh, but they're so fat and gross and hairy. I didn't like that thought.

We walked behind the nest with the Quill-Back bower, and then we came around between it and another nest.

And then there were footfalls. I smelled smoke and fat and chickens and a _biting vapor_, coming closer.

Fishbone became tense and jumpy. He pushed me close against one of the nests, deep in a shadow, and he stood in front of me.

There was a low grunt, and a man walked by. He was _big_. He had four horns, and a big scratchy mane growing from his face. He carried a flaming stick in one paw. It was bigger than Fishbone's stick.

Fishbone splayed his little claws and the man kept walking.

The man didn't smell me.

When he had passed, I crept out to watch him walk away. It was strange, seeing a man so close and so still. (A big man, I mean. Not Fishbone.) So calm and not running. He had come so _close_ to me. How did he not smell me?

Maybe the Dragon-scent here masked me.

Or maybe mans can't smell very well.

I wanted to keep watching the big man, but Fishbone pulled on the little tail, and we crept toward one dark nest. There was an ember-scent coming from it. It smelled exactly like Fishbone. Was this Fishbone's nest?

We slowed down when we passed under the bower. The ember-scent was _strong_. There were mountain-bones, and _fires_ not long dead in here. Everything was tangy. The air was sharp.

And then I saw a craw on the ground! A little man-craw! I felt and smelled and licked inside. But there were only bits of mountain-bone. I cast it off my snout and away, and Fishbone pulled me into his nest.

When I saw the inside, my teeth jumped and my back prickled. There were _man_-_teeth_, _everywhere_. They hung from every part of the inside of the nest. There were big, wide, heavy teeth, with round sides like a fang-moon. There were long teeth like a Quill-Back's crest. There were sharp teeth at the end of long, wooden roots. And there were tiny teeth like the one Fishbone had.

And there were _horns_ and there were _scales_. _So many man-scales!_ Everywhere was a glittering sharpness and bewilderment. There were so many strange shapes, all swinging and swaying from the sides and from the ceiling inside the little nest!

I was afraid at first.

There were _so many teeth_.

But I made myself remember that man-teeth can't do anything without their mans. And Fishbone was the only man in here. And he wouldn't make any of these teeth bite me.

He pulled me in deeper, and he picked up a long, dark man-fang from a craw of bristling mountain-bone teeth.

I am always scared when I see man-teeth in his paws. But I know he won't hurt me. Not on purpose.

He cooed at me, and then he brought the tooth close, and started gnawing on the neck-thing's curved fang. He was going to make it let go of his belly-stripe tail.

He bit _hard_ with the dark fang. He grunted and growled and pressed and strained, but the curved fang didn't want to let go.

I could feel the _bite_. The neck-thing softened it, but it still dug into my hide like a _dull horn_.

I bowed my head, and told Fishbone to be quick.

And then there was a wood-and-water smell...

And another man called from outside the nest.

Its voice was high and sharp like a cat's voice. It sounded very close.

Fishbone started moving very fast.

He drove the dark fang into his skins until it disappeared. I thought he was _mad_. But it didn't hurt him.

Then he grabbed a flappy brown thing from a tooth in the wall, and he wrapped it around his chest. He made it grab on to itself with a snake-pattern across his back in less than a _heartbeat_.

It was a _new skin_. He changed skins right before my eyes.

And then he jumped up high and into the wall, and that part of the wall flapped open like two big fern-fronds, and he went through the hole and landed on the ground outside the nest.

I saw the other man for only a heartbeat—he wasn't very big and he didn't have a face-mane—and then the wall closed up again.

Fishbone started yammering and stuttering at him.

I shook my head. I wanted to get a better look at the other man. He couldn't smell me, and he wouldn't _see_ me. I was black in the black.

I tried to look around the wall and under the bower to see... but then I saw something even better.

There was a _sheep_, _right_ there on the grass.

But then _it_ saw _me_. Hooved things have sharp eyes.

It was just _two bounds_ away! Oh I wanted it. I'd never tasted a sheep before, but I've always wanted to. I'd always wondered if they taste like deer, but _fattier_ and_juicier_. They just look so _plump_.

I knew I could move fast enough for the _man_ not to see me. It was night, and night is the color of my skin. And the man was paying attention to _Fishbone_, mewling in his screechy cat-voice.

I crouched to spring, but when I jumped, the neck-thing held me back. I was still stuck to Fishbone!

And the sheep turned and started _running away!_

I pulled again and again, but Fishbone didn't come back through the hole. The wall wouldn't open up.

I _heaved_, and Fishbone finally fell through the hole. He _jumped_ onto my back in an instant, and I leaped out of the nest and after the sheep.

But Fishbone leaned so hard and so fast to the right that he almost fell off my neck. He _growled_ and _hissed_ so _fiercely_. He wanted me to turn.

But I wanted that sheep... I knew I could carry it with us. It wouldn't be too heavy.

I wanted it bad, but... I turned.

We jumped out over the sea and swooped around the back of the nest and back onto the land. Fishbone pressed to go harder and faster, _away_ from the man-roost. I bounded and took off and we flew away.

Fishbone kept _pressing_ and _pressing_. He streamlined the tail-fin all the way. He wanted speed. And he was trembling again.

We flew as fast as we could back to the hole.

And we did it all in _one flight_.

We never sank to the earth, and my grip on the air was strong.

When we landed I roared it to Fishbone. _One flight!_

I knew he didn't understand me, but I didn't mind.

But still, when he slid from my back, he was still tense, and he mewled and whined. He shaded his face for a moment and _moaned_.

And then he burrowed into his skins and pulled out the long, dark man-tooth, and he _attacked_ the neck-thing's curved fang with it.

He roared and bit it _hard_ and _fast_ and _viciously_, and I yelped. The fang pressed so _hard_ into my neck...

And then the neck-thing's fang let go, and Fishbone's little belly-stripe tail fell free and snapped back to his side.

We both looked at it.

And then Fishbone _huffed_, and fell down on his haunches, and onto his back, and closed his eyes.

For a moment I thought he was sick. But then I came and nosed under his head, and he made the stuttering cough-noise he makes when he is happy. It's his laughter. He stutter-coughed again and again, and louder and louder. I nuzzled his face and he huffed and murmured and pawed my nose.

I think he was happy to be finally unstuck.

I was too.

I lay down by him and we just looked at the stars for a time. They were burning steadily, and the Alphas among them flickered their flames.

It had been a _very long day_ with Fishbone.

Eventually he got up to go back to his man-roost. Back to his nest.

I know which nest is his, now.

He made all the man-things let go of me, and he gathered them up in their own snake-patterns, and he went and got the man-craw from where I had left it a long time before.

He took all his man-things, and climbed out of the hole, and made his goodbye noise.

And I called up and answered him, "Goodbye, Fishbone."

And he looked at me a little longer before he disappeared through the hole in the rocks.

I wonder if he understood me that time.


	18. Zippleback Entry 2

_Author's Notes_: You know that saying, "If you chase two rabbits, both will escape"? I'm chasin', like, sixteen right now. Lol.

Uhm, here's a new chapter. If you'd like to see it with its intended formatting, instead of how it appears here with all the annoying dashes while STILL failing to appear how I want it (GADS can't this website do multiple breaks?), please see it on my DeviantArt account by removing the spaces in the following URL:

http : / / Contraltissimo . deviantart . com / art / The - Dragon - Journals - 18 - 197804675

Otherwise, just lemme know if you spot any grammatical goofs or anything like that.

Peace.

*runs*

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Zippleback  
Entry 2

_Listening to the Stone-Hide._

_Rumbling he can smell another Dragon._

-  
**They're calling for us.**

_They heard us. We were laughing._

**Because of the Venom-Hisser.**

_The Quill-Back was snarling at him again. About the star._

**Said stars don't land. Said maybe the Venom-Hisser made it up. Maybe he was running like a rabbit away from the Yellow-Head the whole time.**

_Trying to get back to the safety of his man-cave._

**And the Venom-Hisser said "Shut up! Your ferocious Yellow-Head is a female!"**

_And..._

**_We laughed._**

_We didn't mean to..._

-  
**We're hungry.**

_There's no food._

-  
**The Quill-Back is still calling for us.**

_Can't answer. Better to be quiet. Don't want it to stir._

**The Evil Fish. It's still here.**

_Still stinking._

**Still slimy.**

_**Still evil.**_

_It can't be dead._

_It never rots away..._

**Why did they do this to us?**

-  
_I don't know._

-  
**We're so hungry.**

-  
_The Flame-Skin is calling now. Can she smell us still here?_

**I can't smell the others anymore. I can't even smell ourself anymore.**

**I don't want to be here.**

_**We can't be here.**_

-  
_We have to get out._

-  
_One way or another we have to get out._

_Out for good._

**Out for good?**

-

-  
_We could eat the Evil Fish. That would end our hunger._

-

-  
**But I don't want to go that way.**

-  
**I regret never telling the Blue-Crested One how pretty they were.**

_I don't. They didn't like us anyway._

-  
**I don't want to go.**

_But we'll be brave._

-  
_Listen to the Stone-Hide._

_Rumbling he can smell another Dragon._

-  
**We're so hungry.**

-  
_There's no other way out. We remember the Quill-Back's stories of the other Dyads._

-  
**I remember.**

-  
_Maybe it'll taste good..._

-

-

-

-  
**I'm ready.**

-

-

-

-

-

_Oh look. The back half of a goat just came out of the food-hole._

-  
**Holy North, I almost touched it.**

**Don't ever do that to me again.**

-  
_Hush._

_Eat._

-

_Listen to the Stone-Hide._

_Rumbling he can smell another Dragon._


	19. Night Fury Entry 12

HAPPY. END. OF SEMESTER. **EVERYBODY.**

Have a Dragon Journal. B)

And as always, lemme know if you spot any spacing errors? When I upload it... it just likes to squish things together sometimes... :\

Thanks all! ^_^

* * *

Night Fury  
Entry 12

I almost _died _today.

I've made up my mind. I'm keeping Fishbone forever.

We _flew_ today. We _really _flew.

Maybe faster and harder than I'd ever flown before.

It's as if Fishbone has become a _part_ of me. He _knows_ how to move in the air. He knows where to grab the wind now. He can _feel _it. I don't feel him moving and leaning apart from me on my back anymore. He moves and I am already moving with him. I move and he is already there. We move at the same time. Together.

He is here with me now. We've flown far away from the hole in the ground, far away from all the trees, and the man-roost, to a beach with standing rocks, where we can see the _sky_.

It looks like it will flame soon. The sky only flames at night, but its flame is strongest at dusk, and at dawn. And if there are clouds at those times, they catch on fire.

Sky-fire is not like Dragon-fire or man-fire. Sky-fire is cold. Sometimes it's wet, too. It's the biggest fire in the world, but it moves so slowly you can never tell when it sparks and when it dies.

It's been so long since I've been able to see the whole sky. And there are many clouds today.

The dusk-flame tonight will be _great_.

I have missed this openness. We can see _forever_ here. It feels good to be able to see so far again. It's not my roost, and it's not a high aerie, but at least we can _see_.

I had been frightened of the hole at first, because I couldn't see anything. How can crawling and burrowing things live so _blindly _all the time?

But after a long time I understood the answer: when I was down in the earth and under the trees, nothing could see _me _either. I was like a rabbit, or a mouse, hiding in my tiny, tiny den.

But a den in the earth is still a _trap _for its mouse, if a Dragon can find it.

I like being able to see better than being able to hide.

But I see now, when I am higher, on a tall rock or in the sky, and can see _everything_... everything must be able to see me too.

It is strange. It makes me feel _vulnerable_. It didn't used to. Part of me is still a mouse that wants to hide safe under the ground, where no eyes can see.

Maybe I've been on the ground for too long. It's good that I can fly again.

And there are still places to hide in the sky. I've played hide-and-chase in the clouds before. The best thing about the clouds is that they always change. The hiding-spots move. It makes it always exciting.

It's a hard game in the daytime. Even harder when the clouds catch on fire, and become so bright while I am so dark.

It's easiest and best at night. Because night is the color of my skin.

Maybe I am a mouse that likes to hide after all. And the night is my den.

But _my_ den is made of wind, instead of earth. The darkness will _never_ be a trap for _me_.

Some day when I am home I want to take Fishbone up for hide-and-chase in the clouds. I think he'd like that.

And he'd be good at it.

It was dangerous today. It was _mad_.

Fishbone put all the man-things on me. He's fast now. I didn't get to eat very many fish before we were ready. But I was hungrier for the sky than for the fish. So I left the craw, and Fishbone and I flew out of the hole, and we circled.

We just _flew_. Around and around, and wider and wider, and _higher_. We climbed the airs for spans and spans.

Fishbone mewled happy noises on my back the whole time. I purred back to him. Sometimes it was hard to hear him over the wind's roar, but I could tell he was feeling good. We were _flying!_

We soared _high _over the sea, in the middle of the sky, with the clouds all around us and the big rocks all below us and the tall, strong mountain of the mans' island standing beside us. Far, far away. Close enough to scratch. I had missed that feeling.

He pawed my neck and murmured. _Footfall_. And then he yammered, and I looked, and saw his back foot turn the horn that flared the tail-fin. It opened, and I felt it right away and copied it quickly on the other side; I never lost my balance. It's become so easy!

I flared my hind-fins too, and I _clung_ onto the air. There was a warm draft blowing up and I _caught_ it! My grip was _strong_. I rode inside it and spiraled tightly and we _climbed so fast!_ I blew out the other side of it like a _fireball!_ _This_ was flying again! It was _so good to fly again!_

_So high and so fast_.

And then Fishbone slowly streamlined. We were _high_, and he wanted speed. I wanted it too. I followed him and let go of the air, and we slid. I could barely hear his little hisses anymore. The wind was too loud. But I could be _louder_. I _roared_ and we _dived!_ I _howled _for joy and happiness and freedom!

We swooped so _fast!_ I heard Fishbone roaring his tiny roar, _Go, Footfall! Go, Footfall!_

The world became smaller, like it used to be—_I could fly!_ _Down_to skim over the sea in just a few heartbeats! I said, "Watch this, Fishbone!" and dipped my wing through the floor-draft and scratched the water.

We flew so fast toward the big rocks. One of them had a big hole; it stood on two legs in the sea. I flew straight between them and Fishbone _hissed_. He was happy.

I was happy too.

But there was another rock coming up fast. I tried to bank up and away, and Fishbone leaned with me, but that was all he did! I hissed "Fishbone wider!" _But he didn't flare the fin!_ If anything he made himself _smaller_ on my back—that was _worse!_

_I couldn't push off the air!_

I turned as much as I could and put out my paws. We were going too fast.

We hit the rock. It _hurt_ my _paws_ and my _legs!_

I roared "Fishbone!" and pushed off.

And he _hiss-growled_at me! His soothing hiss-growl would not make this better!

I roared again "WIDER!"

And there was _another_ rock. Fishbone _leaned _away again.

I moaned "_The fin_—"

And then we hit that rock too.

I hurt my shoulder.

I roared, "Not you, the _fin!_" I can't turn away if I have no grip on the air!

_Idiot man!_

He yammered again and I batted his face with my auricle. I snarled "Focus, Fishbone!"

He yelped and yowled and I felt him paw the horns. Yes, yes, the _fin_. _Wider_ for turning, _streamlined _for speed.

He flared the fin _all _the way. When it was open I clamped onto the air and pumped my wings, and we both turned upward to climb again.

I roared "Better!"

I pumped hard. We climbed _much faster_ than we had before in our wide circles. We climbed _straight up the wind_. I _roared_ and Fishbone _crowed like a hawk!_ He yowled and yammered and I roared back to him. His voice is so _funny! _He went on and on making his man-noises...

And then he screeched and _hiss_-_popped_, _loudly_.

He wanted me to stop. He sounded scared.

I stopped pumping and let my wings and fins slide through, so we could float, and glide. And we slowed down, and the wind quieted, and we hung in crestfall, where everything spins, and you can't feel yourself.

I felt the sky grasp parts of my face, and all the man-things on my back, making them float away. My guts went all swimmy. I hadn't been in crestfall in a long time. I wanted to close my eyes.

But then I saw something above me, and I looked up.

It was Fishbone! He was above me, and he was upside-down! But everything's upside-down in crestfall. I watched the sky grasp at all his head-fur and pull it all out like a pine-sprig.

But he was _off my back_.

Those little curved fangs... he had attacked them and maimed them so they couldn't bite anymore... and now they didn't hold on to him!

And then he _screamed_.

And then I started to fall out of the crest, and Fishbone stayed in the sky. The sky had pulled him off my back. It was _still holding him_, in its invisible talons. And he was _screaming_. I thought it was _killing _him.

It took Fishbone away from me, and I fell. I rolled over backwards, and I couldn't see him anymore. The left fin flapped in the wind. It had no life without Fishbone. No control. I couldn't balance, and I fell down the airs.

I thought I was going to die.

It was the scariest thing in my life.

The wind pushed my head down, and I saw clouds and the island and the rocks and the sea far below. I thought I was going to _smash_ into them in a spatter of carrion meat. But I didn't _want_ to be carrion! I wasn't _ready_ to be carrion! _Nothing _wants to be carrion!

I was so frightened. I howled for help.

How could there be any help?

And then the wind pushed my head up again and I saw Fishbone! The sky had released him and he was still alive!

But we were both dead.

I tried to keep watching him, but he was falling too fast. He hit my wing and fell past me.

Then the wind pushed my head down again and I saw him. He was three spans in front of me, below me. The wind spun him around.

The wind was _so loud_. But _I am louder_. I roared after him—I had to get him back!

I tried to stop tumbling on the airs, and _slide through_—I had to get _lower_. I had to catch up to him. I tried to feel the air... it was so _hard!_ It was moving too fast. I was so _scared! _It was like never-ending crestfall with everything spinning forever.

I found a slippery part, and I stayed on it, and fell lower and faster. I could see Fishbone. His eyes were wide. He was scared. His mouth was yammering, but I couldn't hear him. The wind was too loud.

I tried to slow down so I wouldn't fall past him. _The wind was so hard and buffeting_. I did slow down, and I stayed at his height, but the sky took me in its grasp again and spun me and spun me and spun me around. It was like flying on _ice_. I had no grip. _It was too slippery_.

And Fishbone was too close. I was going too fast. I couldn't stop myself.

I hit Fishbone with my tail.

I didn't mean to!

I hit him on the face. And I am so big and he is so small. I saw him fall away from me in the air. He put his paws on his face. (Do mans lick with their paws?)

I _hurt _him.

And then the wind pushed me around again and I couldn't see him.

I had to _stop!_I tried to roll over... I got to my side...

And then Fishbone came back. He was all right.

He came so close to me. I could see him. He was trying to grab onto me. He was trying to grab onto the _man_-_things_. But the winds and the airs kept batting him around and away.

I roared! "Fishbone! _Reach!_" I tried to make myself go closer to him. I felt the sky's talons curling around my wings and wanting to spin me around again. I was afraid I might hurt Fishbone again.

But then I felt Fishbone's little claws slide under the big man-scale on my back. He caught onto me.

And then the wind spun us all around. It tried to pull us apart. But Fishbone's strong little claws held tight. He is _good _at clinging and climbing. I felt him moving on my back, clinging to the man-scale.

We were going so _fast_. We had fallen so _far_. We were so close to the tall mountains of the island. One of them was right beside us. It would kill us if we touched it.

I felt Fishbone put his back feet against the horns. Then there was a pull on the man-scale where the curved fangs bite Fishbone's belly-stripe tails. They were binding him safe to my back again.

And then Fishbone flared the fin to its _widest_, and it stopped flapping.

I felt it, and copied it.

And I was _even_.

The wind let go of me, and I faced forward. Downward. I could feel up and down again. My tail bounced off walls of air behind me. It was like a tunnel of floor-drafts, we were going _so fast_.

The mountain and the ground were _so close! _I thought it was too late. We were going to hit the pine trees. I thought we were dead carrion.

But Fishbone pulled back.

I didn't know if my wings could stop us fast enough, but I followed him.

I flared all, and put out my wings, and _grabbed hard_.

It _hurt_.

The air dragged my wings back behind me, and my legs flew forward so hard and fast I thought they might pull off. I felt my bones crack, and Fishbone slammed into the back of my neck.

My wing-edges _burned_. I was going too fast. I couldn't keep the air in my grip, and it _scratched _me.

But we didn't smash into the mountain. We didn't hit the pine trees. We banked away. _Barely_. My wings were a banking shape, but we were still falling _downward_. Like a _dive_. My wing-edges _hurt_—I _shrieked!_—but I didn't let go of the air. I had to keep the arc of my swoop above the arc of the ground! I could feel the close drafts of the pine tops _just below my tail!_

It was good the mountain's foot was so steep.

But I saw the bottom and the end of the mountain, and I saw the sea, and floor-clouds. And there were big rocks.

I wanted _empty air_. I wanted a _wonder_ of spans of _nothing_ to swoop out of our bank-dive. I could not _pump!_ I could not _flap!_ I could _not bank any farther upward and safe into the higher airs!_

Fishbone was still pulling up and away on my back, but I couldn't _bank _up and away! We were going to hit the big rocks!

I just shrieked "_DO SOMETHING, MAN!_"

_I did not want to be carrion!_

And Fishbone leaned down. One of the rocks stood on two legs. I could see it through the floor-clouds. There was a hole. It was not big.

I followed Fishbone, and I let go of the air, and slid through, and we tilted and went through the hole in the rock.

And that is when Fishbone disappeared from off the top of my back. I never felt him apart after that. It was as if he had melted in between my shoulders, and was a twining strength under my skin. We moved _together_.

There were a _lot _of rocks. The wind roared in between them. It never roars in places so close, but it did in those rocks.

They were _tight_. And we were still going so fast; it was the floor of our giant swoop down the mountain. But we _grabbed_ and _banked_ and _turned _in our slide. Fishbone knew how to move. We moved at the same time.

It was frightening going so fast. You don't go so fast among hard stone.

But we found the holes, and places to slide through. Some were wide and easy. And some were very, very small. One was so tiny we had to roll for it. Fishbone's heaviness made us roll so _fast!_ I almost rolled over again! It was _alarming_.

We didn't scratch any rocks. I kept thinking we would, and my wingtips would bleed. But our grip was _strong_. Even in the speed of our giant swoop.

_We_ could _move_. My man and I.

We were _strong_.

We _are _strong.

It became easier and easier, and the holes became bigger, and then we sailed into an emptiness of floor-clouds, and I felt us fall on the floor-draft. Our swoop-speed had run out.

There were no more rocks. And I could _flap_. The _slowness_ was _wonderful_.

I pumped a little above the floor-draft. The wind had stopped roaring, and I heard Fishbone panting on my back. I was surprised to feel him still there, on the outside, and not a part of my body.

I panted too. I was afraid and happy at the same time. My heart _leaped_ and _burned_ inside me! No carrion today—we were _alive!_

And then Fishbone _crowed_.

I knew he could feel the same joy bursting in his belly.

He was _happy_.

_I_ was happy!

I hocked a _big_ ball of gas, and _sizzled_ it in my throat, and _blasted it into the sky!_

It blew up beautifully, and I closed my eyes to glide through the fireball.

I forgot about Fishbone.

When we came out the other side, he _yammered_ and _yowled_ and _shifted_ and _wiggled_ and _moaned_, _Ember_-_Hiss_, _Ember_-_Hiss_.

I had forgotten. Mans' skins are _thin _against flame.

I looked and saw him batting his skin and fur to kill the flames. I crooned that I was sorry! I didn't remember.

I turned around and flew back, and perched on one of the big rocks above the floor-clouds, and Fishbone finished batting himself.

My legs were shaking. I was still excited and happy and afraid. But mostly happy. I blasted more fireballs into the air all around, and just watched them blow up and scare the seagulls. Fishbone murmured and pawed my neck and scratched my head.

I sank to my belly. We just rested for a time on the rock. Fishbone got down and looked around. His mouth was open.

Sometimes he just leaves it open. I don't know why. It makes him look... stupider.

But after a moment he closed it, and came back and sat down beside me, and leaned against my shoulder. He was still panting just a bit, so I licked his face. It still tasted oily, but I didn't care. I was happy.

And he pawed me back, all over my head. (I think mans _do_ lick with their paws. They do _everything _with their paws.) He was happy too.

When we had caught our breath, and our hearts stopped trying to leap away, Fishbone got back on, and we took off. And in the air again I couldn't feel him. He sank into my shoulders, and became a part of my body. We moved together. I liked it.

We both knew where to go; we turned in the same directions. We flew back to the hole. But we didn't land. We just swooped down, and I grabbed the man-craw with the rest of the fish inside.

I purred to Fishbone, "Let's go somewhere _big _to eat." I didn't want to be in the hole anymore. Not when I could fly again, and the world was so small.

And so we came here, to the beach with standing rocks, where we can see the _sky_.

When I dropped the craw on the ground, a weasel ran out of it. It had one of my fish! It must have been stealing them while we were away from the hole and flying.

So I pounced on it and _crunched_ it. It was a warm start, and I realized how _hungry _I still was.

Fishbone got down and spilled the craw on the rocks, and I ate. I asked him if he wanted any, but he just walked toward the water. He looked around and started picking up sticks. When he brought them back, I remembered what he had done with sticks before.

He was going to make a _man_-_fire_.

I wanted to watch this time.

He put the sticks in a little pile on the ground, and then he looked around some more. He pawed at some of the rocks in the beach, but he didn't seem to like any of them. He tried to dig a few of them out of the ground, but they were all too big for him to carry.

He stood still for a moment, and then he came back and started yammering at me. He took a stick in his paws and waved it in front of my face.

I said, "Make your man-fire. I want to see."

But he didn't do anything.

He put the stick on the ground and yap-snarled at it with his mouth wide open. He blew and huffed and mewled _Ember_-_Hiss_. He pawed my face to make me look at the stick.

I said, "Are you going to make your man-fire?" If he wasn't, I wanted to go back to my fish.

He made strange gurgling, hissing sounds. He looked like he was trying to spark fire from his _mouth_, like a Dragon.

_Oh_, I realized. He wanted to see _me_ make _my_ fire. I had thought his man-fire was interesting. Maybe he thought my _Dragon_-fire was interesting, too. Maybe he had never seen it up close. Maybe he was curious too. He's smart enough.

Then I wanted to impress him! I blackened his stick in a _heartbeat_, and he jumped away and yelped. But I told him there was nothing to be afraid of. He came back quickly and looked closely at the stick, and at the burn on the rocks. He pawed the stick with his back foot, and it crumbled into black ember-dust.

And he murmured. I am sure he was amazed. But I laughed. I could blacken _much_ bigger things than little _sticks_.

And then Fishbone brought another stick to me and yammered some more. He held it in his paw, out in front of me. He _meowed_.

It was like the ripple-noise he makes when he doesn't want something, but it sounded _rounder_ and _bigger_.

He waited. He wanted me to flame again.

I liked showing my flame. But he was still holding the stick with his paw. So I aimed very carefully and only blackened _part _of the stick.

Fishbone didn't hold on to it very well, and it went down the beach and into the water. And he still yelped. He flapped his paw and put it in his mouth. He _licked_ it—so mans _do _lick with their tongues!

But it must have been because my flame was too hot, even though it never touched him.

I was sorry. I licked his paw too. But he just barked at me.

He got one more stick, and threw it in the air, and _meowed _again.

It made me remember trying to blast those colorful flying bugs! So I flamed one more time, and just made the stick _twirl _in the air.

It was on fire when it hit the ground, and Fishbone ran to it and grabbed it, and carried it back to his pile of sticks, and made a little wind with his breath to push the flame around.

Then I knew he was just being _lazy_. He wasn't going to make his man-fire. He stole _my _fire for his little stick-pile.

But... I didn't really mind. I think he is still very young anyway.

I went back to my fish. After a time, Fishbone murmured and crooned to me, and took one of them for himself, and impaled it on a stick.

Now he's scorching it over my stolen fire, losing all the best juices again. Why do mans _do_ that? Or is it only _Fishbone _that does that?

However they do it, I told Fishbone, "Next time, I want to see _your _flame."

And I kept eating my fish.

Fishbone has been scorching his fish for a long time. I wonder if he wants something quicker...


	20. Cave Flower Entry 1

Cave-Flower-The-Color-Of-Lagoon-Ripples  
Entry 1

No new Gifts in the Holy North today.

The old Geyser-Mouth was still there, but it was too crowded. Bites-First-And-Quickly roared and made himself bigger and scared some of the others out of the way so he could get closer. But then he came back and said there was no flesh left anyway. The others were just licking the last oil from the big bones.

The little bones were already gone and dropped and cracked and empty. Never-Stops-Digging wondered if the four of us together could pick up a _bigger _bone and drop it on a rock somewhere to crack it open.

We all made ourselves bigger and louder and flew in and scared a hole in the others. Never-Stops-Digging flamed a lot. But I didn't like being so loud.

We grabbed onto a big bone. But the big bones were still stuck to each other. We couldn't break them apart to carry one of them away. Extraordinarily-Small complained that it was hard the whole time.

Oh well. Maybe another Gift will come soon. Maybe it will be something big, and we can drive it over the big bones, and it will tread on them and crack them to pieces before it dies.

We didn't get to eat, but we sang the Geyser-Mouth's name anyway.

And then we flew away.

We've been singing just the one Geyser-Mouth for a long time. I wish there were more Gifts. I think there are supposed to be more Gifts. And more songs, in the North.

We went to the island of the mans. Extraordinarily-Small wanted to hunt for mice. Then he wanted to hunt for rabbits. Then he wanted to hunt for weasels, and then foxes. Never-Stops-Digging roared and flamed at him to stop chittering, and we went to the weedy beach instead. Never-Stops-Digging told Extraordinarily-Small that if he could find any mice or rabbits or weasels or foxes there that he could have them. But Never-Stops-Digging and Bites-First-And-Quickly went diving for limpets.

I dived for limpets too. They're easy to catch.

But I didn't eat very much.

I don't like limpets.

Extraordinarily-Small chased some bugs and played in the sand. After a time he cried that he was hungry, so I brought him a limpet. But he didn't want it. He wanted me to help him look for rabbits.

I told him there _were _no rabbits around the weedy beach, but he wanted me to help him look anyway. So I did.

We never found any. We found an empty hole, but Extraordinarily-Small didn't want to look inside.

He's afraid of dark holes.

Eventually he came back and ate some limpets with me and Never-Stops-Digging and Bites-First-And-Quickly. He roared a lot that he hates limpets.

If Extraordinarily-Small had been born to any other kin, I think they would have named him Complains-All-The-Time-About-Everything-Forever.

We sunned.

The weedy beach is nice because nothing ever goes there. The weeds pile up and stink, so nothing comes near. It's safe for sleeping.

When the sun was dying we tried to catch little fish, but they're harder. Only Bites-First-And-Quickly had much success.

I caught one.

Extraordinarily-Small was angry because he didn't catch any. He climbed up into the air and said he was going to find a rabbit.

Never-Stops-Digging told him not to fly away alone because it was dangerous. But Never-Stops-Digging just didn't want to go anywhere. And Bites-First-And-Quickly was asleep.

So I said I would go with Extraordinarily-Small. And I climbed up into the air with him.

That made Never-Stops-Digging and Bites-First-And-Quickly wake up.

They like me.

So they came after us.

Extraordinarily-Small flapped in a circle and said he wanted a _fat _rabbit. He wanted a fat rabbit with brown fur and a black nose, and pink toes. He said all the toes had to be pink or it wouldn't taste right and he wouldn't eat it.

And as soon as we were all in the air, he flapped away down the coast.

And we followed him.

Bites-First-And-Quickly didn't follow for very long; he likes to be in front. So does Never-Stops-Digging. They both flew in front of Extraordinarily-Small and yowled at each other for a while over who should lead. But Never-Stops-Digging finally agreed that he would follow after Bites-First-And-Quickly; he would just follow him from in front. Bites-First-And-Quickly was content with that, just as long as he got to lead.

We passed some standing stones, and Extraordinarily-Small called out "Look! A Gift!"

And we all looked, and there was a Wing-Singer lying on the beach. And a man, with a man-fire. We thought the Wing-Singer was the man's kill, and we started flying closer.

But then Never-Stops-Digging yapped, "That Wing-Singer is still alive!"

And so he was. There was no carrion scent either.

We flapped closer and saw that neither one had pinned the other. The Wing-Singer and the man were only eating fish together.

But that was still a Gift!

I floated up behind Bites-First-And-Quickly and purred, "Will you get me a fish?"

But he laughed "No!" and swooped and dived away.

I should have made him see me when I asked it. He likes it when I wave my tail and curl my claws up under my chin.

Bites-First-And-Quickly and Never-Stops-Digging dived in first and started chattering. Extraordinarily-Small chattered too. So did I. But I didn't like diving in so fast.

But sometimes the chattering of all of us will drive a bigger Dragon away. I had to be brave.

Bites-First-And-Quickly started, "Carrion! Carrion! Carrion! Carrion!"

And Never-Stops-Digging, "Brother Wing-Singer! You lie far from the North!"

"Share your fish with us!"

"Too many for just you!"

"We're hungry!"

"We won't eat much!"

"Give it to us!"

"Just a little!"

"Share!"

Bites-First-And-Quickly and Never-Stops-Digging are the best chatterers.

I chattered, "Poor dead fish belong to Venom-Hissers! Go hunt something nobler, strong Wing-Singer!"

And Bites-First-And-Quickly chirped, "Yes, eat the _man!_"

Extraordinarily-Small made himself bigger (well, as big as he _could_) and growled and snarled so much he could hardly chatter, "F-F-Fish for us! Food for us! Not for you! Want f-f-fish NOW!"

The Wing-Singer covered the fish with his paw. His growl was scary and it made my bones shake. Wing-Singer-speak is long and low and full of swoops... but I think he just said, "**NO.**"

Bites-First-And-Quickly ran in first. "Mine!" he chattered.

But the Wing-Singer snapped at him, "**GET BACK.**"

And Bites-First-And-Quickly couldn't reach the fish.

But Never-Stops-Digging ran in and grabbed a slimy fish head. "Mine!" he chattered.

The Wing-Singer rumbled, "**Wait...**"

Never-Stops-Digging pulled the fish head back a few spans. "Ooo, craw-mush," he purred.

Bites-First-And-Quickly said, "Craw-mush is for _hatchlings! _That's disgusting!"

Never-Stops-Digging took a bite and said, "It still fills my belly."

Bites-First-And-Quickly saw he couldn't reach any of the other fish, so he ran to Never-Stops-Digging and his slimy fish head and growled, "Give me some!"

But Never-Stops-Digging roared, "No!"

They yowled. Bites-First-And-Quickly started to growl something very nasty that he said he was going to do to Never-Stops-Digging, and there was flame—

But I was watching Extraordinarily-Small. He had crawled _into _the pile of fish.

That Dragon is too bold.

He grabbed a big fish and started to pull it out of the pile, but the Wing-Singer saw him.

The Wing-Singer grabbed the fish by the head and snarled, "**LET GO.**"

Extraordinarily-Small had the fish by the tail. He snarled back, "No! M-M-Mine!"

But the Wing-Singer growled, "**MINE.**" And he pulled back the fish so that its tail ripped off in Extraordinarily-Small's mouth.

The Wing-Singer ate the rest of the fish in one swallow, and then he laughed at Extraordinarily-Small and the fish tail, "**_THAT_ IS YOURS.**"

Extraordinarily-Small spit out the fish tail and growled and scratched and scraped the ground with his claws and snarled, "I'll f-f-flame your eyes out!"

And the Wing-Singer said, "**How fast is your spark?**"

And I remembered I had heard that before. I had seen _that _Wing-Singer before. He had a mean trick.

I called to Extraordinarily-Small, "Be careful!"

But he didn't listen, and he took a big breath.

I yowled, "Don't do it!"

But he hocked his gas, and the Wing-Singer saw it.

Wing-Singers are too _fast_.

The Wing-Singer spat out a little fireball, and the little fireball sparked Extraordinarily-Small's gas before he was ready—and it flamed him all up inside his belly!

That Wing-Singer is so _mean!_ Fire-gorging smaller Dragons! I _hate_ that Wing-Singer! He's _mean to Venom-Hissers!_

Extraordinarily-Small landed on the ground and was _hurting_ and _stumbling_. His wing dragged and his maw smoked.

I wanted to _sing that Wing-Singer's name_ and _chew out his guts in the Holy North_ and then _bury his bones_ where the Bone-Weavers would _never_ find them! I wanted to _screech_ at him! _Everything _becomes a Gift some day!

But I didn't.

I don't like screeching so loud.

And the Wing-Singer ate more fish.

Extraordinarily-Small stumbled too close to the man, and the man looked at him and yammered. I was scared, because Extraordinarily-Small seemed too hurt to know to be scared.

And mans are _grumpy_.

But this man only yammered, and took a fish in its paw, and flung the fish in front of Extraordinarily-Small.

That made Extraordinarily-Small wake up from his stumbling. He ate the fish.

And then—for once!—Extraordinarily-Small sang a North song. Or he tried to anyway. He purred, "Thank you for Sharing the P-P-Plenty, Brother Man."

Extraordinarily-Small is _never_ grateful. I felt sad that the one time he was, it had to be wasted on a _man_. Mans don't know speech. Maybe Extraordinarily-Small was hurting in his brain and couldn't remember.

_Brother Man_. I had never heard that before. It was funny. But for all we know, it might have been a _Sister _Man—I can't tell.

Extraordinarily-Small walked to where the man was and nosed more gratitude on its foreleg.

Well, maybe he is only _hardly ever _grateful.

And then he purred, "You are fuzzy," and then he fell asleep.

I am sure he needed it. That Wing-Singer did the same mean trick on Echoes-To-The-Blood before, and sleep helped her feel better. Extraordinarily-Small would feel better after sleeping too.

The man murmured and pawed Extraordinarily-Small's back. It looked like affection. It didn't want to eat him. Maybe it was too full of fish, and that's why it was Sharing Plenty.

It was _tiny _for a man, too.

Smaller Dragons are nicer. There is always Plenty for all when there are only small Dragons. But bigger Dragons are meaner. There is never enough for big Dragons, and they are always hungry for more. The biggest Dragon is very cruel.

Maybe it's the same with mans. The tiny man was nice.

That was good for us.

Bites-First-And-Quickly and Never-Stops-Digging started chattering, "Share Plenty! Share Plenty! Share Plenty! Share Plenty!" And they ran toward the man.

The man had one _big _fish, impaled on a man-claw stick. It was scorching it in its man-fire. I could smell the fish was already burned and spoiled and dry and disgusting, but it was still a Gift.

I chattered too. But not so loudly. I don't like to chatter so loudly.

The man made itself smaller and moaned. It was afraid of us.

We thought our chattering might make it release its fish for us. But the man pressed against the Wing-Singer's side, and the Wing-Singer snarled at us, "**LEAVE THE MAN ALONE.**"

And we couldn't reach the man's big fish.

So we waited.

We've waited before. It isn't bad. It's better waiting when there are only a few of us. Sometimes we've waited all day for a bigger Dragon to be done with a Gift. When the bigger Dragon leaves, there are always little pieces left behind.

We were content to wait.

We didn't have to wait for very long. The man started ripping off little pieces of the burned fish in its big fleshy claws, and it threw them to us.

Bites-First-And-Quickly got the first one. And the second. And the third. Then Never-Stops-Digging started fighting with him again, and I got the next piece the man threw.

It was warm. The flesh was dry and flaky and all the good oil and blood was burned away, but it still tasted like good fish. It tasted better than limpets. And anything better than limpets is good.

Sometimes the man ripped off pieces for itself. It was interesting watching the man eat. It chewed forever like a cow. It murmured and mumbled and made funny noises too.

It Shared the whole Plenty of the fish that way, sometimes to itself and sometimes to us. It gave us the whole head and all the guts too.

Extraordinarily-Small woke up when he smelled the guts. And he was closer to the man, so he got first bites. But when the man threw the rest of the guts to us, Extraordinarily-Small came back to eat a little more.

We liked this man. We sang Thanks for Plenty-Sharing, and nosed affection on its feet and hind legs and forelegs. It pawed our backs and scratched our necks with the tiny sharp parts on its stubby claws.

Bites-First-And-Quickly chirped, "Tell us your name, Brother Man!"

And I crooned, "So small and good like us!"

Never-Stops-Digging snorted and said, "It can't understand you." Then he turned and yapped, "Tell us your hairy friend's name, Wing-Singer!"

The Wing-Singer rumbled, "**He'll tell you his name when he goes to the Shore of Bones. SING IT THEN.**"

"Not for _Gift-singing_," we all chattered, "For knowing a Brother!"

The Wing-Singer growled at us, "**HE IS NOT YOUR BROTHER, FOOD-STEALING VENOM-HISSERS.**"

"Yes, is a friend!" Extraordinarily-Small pointed out, "Shared f-f-food with us."

"**YOU _STOLE_ IT!**" the Wing-Singer roared, and he snapped and we jumped and flew away.

We landed on the beach and shrieked defiance together. The Wing-Singer still growled at us, but the man pawed the Wing-Singer's head and made crooning noises.

It looked like the tiny man was the _Wing-Singer's _Brother too.

The Wing-Singer stood up and began to nose the man's back. "**GET ON**," he rumbled, "**GET ON, GET ON, GET ON.**"

The tiny man yowled and yammered, and then he climbed onto the Wing-Singer's back, and their skins clasped each other, and they both flew away.

And Bites-First-And-Quickly shrieked, "MINE!" and ran to get the rest of the Gift.

There are always little pieces left behind.

We all flapped in to eat them up.

It was delicious.

Extraordinarily-Small found something interesting, too. It was a man-thing—a little cave made of bendy sticks. There was oil inside, and we all licked it clean.

It smelled so good inside. I even thought about sleeping in it! It would have been so pleasant...

But Bites-First-And-Quickly and Never-Stops-Digging got into a fight over the last fish head, and one of them flamed and burned the bendy-cave to ashes.

Oh well.

Maybe we'll see that Sharing-Man again, and he'll have more food and good-smelling things.

* * *

_Author's Note_: Dear Masterweaver, if you are still reading... here's chapter twenty! However, although I was immensely intrigued and I daresay rather flattered by your offer... and besides that I think it would be _really freakin' cool_... please know that I hold you under no obligation to do anything whatsoever. It _has_ been a while since you offered that, and your mind may have changed in the meanwhile, and in case it has, I want to respect that.

To everybody else, I don't wanna hear it about how long the delay was this time! My poor Vestige readers had to wait WAAAY longer than you this time around! What's Vestige? Vestige is my other multi-chapter HTTYD fanfic. It's the fic whose updates delay the updates on Dragon Journals, since I tend to work on them both alternately. I recently took the liberty of sprucing up Vestige's summary-blurb... take a look and tell me if it's workin', wot? Heck, you might even _read and review_ it! That would make me a happy author, and happy authors write faster. *COUGH*

Of _course_ I have no shame. I _never_ have shame on Wednesdays.


	21. Night Fury Entry 13

Night Fury  
Entry 13

I am hiding in the hole.

I can smell the others in the sky. Going back to the Alpha.

Maybe they can smell me too.

But I'm glad they can't see me.

What am I going to do with Fishbone?

Something happened to him today. I think I did something to him. After we left the beach with the standing rocks.

I was so _angry_ when we left—Venom-Hissers came. I think they smelled our fish.

And _Fishbone_...

Fishbone is the only Good Man. All the other mans are vicious and terrible, but Fishbone is so good and kind. Always sharing food.

Maybe he is older than he looks after all; always nurturing like an Alpha. To _everything_... Even Venom-Hissers.

_Is_ he insane?

Those Venom-Hissers _used_ him—they pretended to nose affection but they only wanted our _food_. Fishbone was just a place of carrion to them—they even wanted to sing his name!

I don't want them to _ever_ sing his name! He is _my_ man! He came to _me!_ They can't have him. They only wanted to _use_ him.

But he is _mine_. He claims me as much as I claim him. He skins me with shining man-scales and horns and tusks. Skins that change. He grew little tails just to hold _on_ to me!

I'm keeping him. He is _mine_. I want him. I _need_ him—but—

What will the others do when I bring him back?

They will all want a closer smell. Until they find out he stinks. But then they'll see he is a food-giver... and they'll want to take him for themselves.

What _is_ he? _Why_ does my man catch food and then just... _give it away?_ He is easy to keep when I am alone. But when I go back... will it be dangerous? Dragons will _see_ him; they'll _smell the fish_ always on his paws. They'll want to _steal_ him. They might try to kill me.

But no, maybe they _won't_ stop to smell closer—because he is a _man_. And Dragons _kill_ mans.

What am I doing? I can't bring a _man_ back to my roost—the others would smell him so fast and find him and snatch him away and take him to the Alpha. Like the sheep I smell them taking in the sky now.

I'm glad the big tree is here to hide under. It is night, and night is the color of my skin, but... why do I still want to burrow deeper like a mouse?

And what would _Fishbone_ do? He was angry when we left the beach, too. But I think it was because we forgot the craw.

But what will he do when I take him back home to my roost?

When we got back to the hole, he ran to go back to his _own_ roost, his man-roost.

The others were hunting there. We could smell them and hear them.

I wanted to hunt with them. I wanted to protect them from the flying stones—I wanted to blow up the man-towers.

But what will Fishbone do?

Can I still make him help me?

He ran away from me and climbed out of the hole so fast. He wanted to go back to his roost. He wanted to go back to his _mans_.

I think he wanted to help them.

But can I still make him help _me?_

Can I still keep him my own?

I learned a new trick today. Something I did to Fishbone. When we were flying away from the beach with the standing rocks.

Maybe something I can use.

He didn't want to fly away from the beach, and he _hiss_-_popped_ at me to stop. He ripple-called twisted to go back, but I didn't want to. I just wanted to get him away from those Venom-Hissers. He is _not for them_. He is _mine_.

I flew higher, to where Fishbone wouldn't be able to see the beach anymore. I flew him into the clouds where everything was burning. I flew him into the dusk-flame.

And he became quiet, and still.

He just _stopped_. He stopped doing everything.

I turned my head as far as I could so I could see him with one eye.

His eyes were wide and his mouth was open so he looked stupid.

And he just looked. He looked all around.

His hold on the tail-fin became weak, too. I could feel it.

I barked at him to wake up. And he did, for just a little time, and he steadied the tail-fin. And he murmured.

But then he stopped again. He wasn't doing anything. He was just a heaviness on my back.

I dived and swooped to wake him up _hard_, and he snapped into my shoulders and became a part of me again so I couldn't feel him, and we were strong.

We flew down closer to the sea, out of the sky-fire, and he became normal. He mewled and pawed my neck. But then he pulled up. He wanted to fly high again.

But when we climbed the airs into the dusk-flame again, he stopped moving.

I thought hard, and I tried him. I tried him down low by the sea, and I tried him up high in the clouds. And when we were in the clouds, something happened to his brain. Whenever I looked at him his mouth was open.

(I _really_ hope he doesn't do that when I take him home with me. He looks so _stupid_ when he does that...)

But I think it was the dusk-flame. I saw him looking at the brightest parts. I think the dusk-flame stupefied him. It made him dazed and sedate.

It _tamed_ him.

We soared around the clouds for so long that way, and after a time Fishbone even lay down on my neck. It was as if he were in a waking sleep. But he didn't forget the tail-fin again; he held it steady.

But soaring him in the sky-fire made him so _calm and still_.

Can I use that? Can I use that to still make him help me?

He was so _quiet_.

But when we got back to the hole, and there was the breath of other Dragons on the air, and the shrieks of their hunting, and the ringing mountain-bone of the mans far away in their roost... Fishbone woke up, and _moaned_. He pushed down hard to land, and when we were on the ground he jumped from my back and ran and climbed away.

He didn't even take the man-things off my chest and back.

He had been so _still_.

But when he heard his mans roaring, he ran away _so fast_. He wanted to go to them. He wanted to be with them. I think he wanted to protect them.

What am I going to do?

What am I going to do with Fishbone?

If Fishbone runs to his mans whenever they cry and clang...

I can't help the others.

They are far away now; they passed by the hole a long time ago, but I am still afraid to come out from under the big tree.

I don't want them to see me.

I can't fly without Fishbone.

But Fishbone is a _man_.

Will Fishbone help us hunt?

What am I going to do?

I hope the others found enough food.

* * *

_Author's Note_: These installments used to come so easily to me, especially in the beginning... but the past several have been just... eeeuuuugh so hard to spit out... So with this one I tried to go back to the way it was, as far as my method of writing them.

So what'd'y'all think? Still coming out okay?

Anyway, thanks for readin', friends. This thing would be dead without you. ^_^


	22. Gronckle Entry 3

_Author's Note_: **I** bet you all thought I was **DEAD!**

Well guess wut. IT'S CHRISTMAS BREAK. 8]

* * *

Gronckle  
Entry 3

Tiny One roaring at me some more.

He sure roars a lot. 

Maybe he's just jealous he doesn't get out very much.

But he gets out more than Flamey One. Flamey One _never_ gets out. 

I got out today. And Toothless was there. I really like Toothless. He doesn't scratch or bite.

And he always smells _good_.

But... didn't get much time to smell him today.

But smelled him enough. He always has smell-stuff on him. 

It's so _good_.

It's seriously... seriously good... _really_ good junk I got in here. 

Stick-Foot came and yammered a lot today.

There were many more mans outside. They rarred a lot.

And Tiny One roared at everyone, "Get ready! Be careful! Pay attention!"

And Flamey One made fun and hissed, "Wings out! Legs in! Tail straight!"

I laughed.

And the rars went away, and my door opened and I got out.

There were only two mans in the man-cage today. Toothless, and the scary Yellow-Head.

Toothless grew some horns.

But Tiny One roared at me to look at all the mans and look for the Head-Ripper. He said the Head-Ripper comes when there are a lot of mans.

So I flew around.

Hard to look at mans when the scary Yellow-Head keeps throwing his tooth at you.

Wait, no, no, that's wrong. Tiny One said that one was a she.

Hard to look at mans when the scary Yellow-Head keeps throwing her tooth at you.

But I looked at all the mans, and I saw the big tall fat one with the big red face-mane. That's the Great Head-Ripper.

Didn't want to try to get through the second door if the Great Head-Ripper was outside.

Couldn't get out today.

That made me sad. 

So I looked for the next best thing. Looked for Toothless and his smell-stuff.

There were a lot of little doors in the man-cage today. Toothless was hiding in them. But I flew around, and I smelled and smelled and smelled until I found him. He smelled _so good_.

I saw him behind a door, so I flew down and I pounced him! I put my nose in his fur and _SMELLED_.

I got some in my nose.

_But he smelled SO GOOD_.

Think the mans rarred again. Can't really remember.

I was just smelling.

No, I remember. The mans rarred really loud.

Tiny One roared louder. Said to pay attention.

And I said, "Okay."

So I opened my eyes and looked.

I saw Toothless and the Yellow-Head, and Stick-Foot waving his paw and his big tooth, and all the mans rarred at the same time so loud and made noises and butted heads. But I just wanted to sleep in the smell.

The mans rarred and rarred and rarred and then they went away.

Except for the Big Mans.

Hate the Big Mans.

They pushed me back into my cave.

And I got to rest with my smell-stuff.

And when _all_ the mans went away, Tiny One roared at me a lot. Always roaring, always cranky. Tiny One's a downer.

He said, "How many mans above?"

And I said, "Sixty-seven mans above."

And he said, "Was the Head-Ripper there?"

And I said, "Yes."

And he said, "Was the Man Matriarch there?"

And I said, "What's the Man Matriarch?"

And he snarled, "The _tiny little female_ with grey fur and a claw longer than _she_ is!"

And I remembered I saw the tiny man with the big claw.

So I said, "Yes."

And he said, "Was there a Choosing?"

And I thought and thought. And I said, "How does Choosing work?"

And he roared, "WHICH MAN-WHELP WAS STICK-FOOT PAWING WHEN THE MANS ROARED?"

And I thought and thought and thought. Just wanted my smell-stuff.

And Spiky One said, "Try to remember."

So I tried to remember. And I remembered Stick-Foot pawed Toothless and the mans rarred.

So I said, "Sick-Foot pawed Toothless."

And Spiky One crowed.

And Tiny One said, "Toothless? The tiny one?"

And I laughed. _Tiny One said tiny one_.

And then I said, "Yes."

And then Spiky One and Tiny One started chattering.

They're still chattering a lot. They're chattering at Flamey One.

They're chattering about Toothless. And the man-cage. And man-teeth. And the Head-Ripper. 

This smell-stuff smells so _good_. 

Wish they'd stop chattering and be quiet.

Just want to sleep with my smell-stuff.

So noisy. Like when they chattered at the _other_ Flamey One. 

Oh. I remember Choosing now. 

Now I'm scared. 

Ugh, head hurts again.

Stupid smell-stuff.


End file.
